RainWater
by Witchyprincess
Summary: There are no colors-just black, white, and gray: what was, what is, and what will be. People don't ever forget what was. More than that, they don't let you forget...(TP, GB, UM)COMPLETE
1. Something Amazing

Rainwater  
Pre-Chapter: Something Amazing  
Rating: R for sexual situations and suggestions, adult topics and language.  
_WitchyPrincess_

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Dragonball/Z/GT, at all. Not the characters or the ideas associated with it. **I'm only going to say it this once**. The only thing I own is this plot. Suing would be a waste of time, I'm 17 and immensely poor.

**Detailed summary**: _There are no colors - just black, white and gray. What was, what is, and what will be. And people don't ever forget what was. More than that, they don't let you forget_. The story of three people, discovering themselves in the midst of loving someone. Trying to find a way to live without hurting, while suffering from a serious case of Unrequited-Love. The story of six lives, moving in different directions and meeting at the same spot. But, more than that, the story of three girls, saving each other when the need was the greatest. T/P and G/B with a slight touch of U/M.

Bra leaves Japan to find out what life really means to her and comes back on a mission. A mission to get the one person she's always loved. But she needs some help from someone who's not always been on her 'favorite persons' list. Now that she's a different person, she has got to convince Pan that she's no longer the snobby girl that used to make the young Saiyan's life a living hell. And she's got to do it while convincing Marron that she's still the same as always. After all, she needs both girls if she's going to get what she's trying for. But Bra's plan gets complicated when Pan falls for Trunks, again. After swearing that she would never waste her time on the boy, since he broke her heart four years ago, Pan walks back into his life through blackmail. Feelings stir that can't be ignored and Trunks & Pan find themselves in some 'heated circumstances' that lead to more heartbreak. But for who? And how will it all be fixed? And...What's Marron got to do with anything?

**Rating:** When I say 'sexual situations and suggestions, adult topics and language', I'm not joking. _You have been warned_.

**Updates:** Updates will be every Wednesday and Friday, beginning this Wednesday and continuing through completion.

_Something amazing_

**  
  
**_Something amazing happened. And when I say 'amazing' I don't mean wonderful. I mean astonishing, but not spectacular. Surprising but not joyful. To sum it up in one word: heartbreaking. _

_An earth-shattering, groundbreaking, jaw-slacking something. Something that was expected but, somehow, less than reality. I should have known, really, I should have been prepared for what I got. But how can you tell the difference between fantasy and reality when the person you're around is always treating you the same as they do when you dream?_

_ I knew - I've always known. I didn't need him to say it, to spell it out. But somehow, it hurts more this way. It's like believing there is a devil all your life and then finally meeting him. You always thought he was real, but he wasn't—not really—until you saw him with your own eyes. _

_Well, tonight I saw the devil…_

_–Pan Son_


	2. Breaking Point

Rainwater  
Chapter 1: Breaking-Point  
Rating: R for sexual situations and suggestions, adult topics and language.  
_WitchyPrincess_

_Breaking-point _

___Look at me; tell me what you see. There's a girl there who stands proud. Her head is held high, her shoulders squared. Her smile is in place and her eyes shine with mirth. You see the laughter in those eyes, right? You see the joy, the strength, the beauty. _

_But who ever sees the pain?_

_There can't be anything significant behind all the mounds of make-up. Nothing worth digging for, worth fighting for. There's no reason to try and scratch the surface, beyond that everything's hollow. No matter if the assumption is true or not, no one has bothered to give it the proper test. Certain people are expected to be certain things and we can all be no more or less than what we are. What we are expected to be._

_So look at me, this is me: The product of a genius and a man of brutal strength; beauty with no brains, temper with no force._

_One thing's for certain, men may flirt with girls like me, but they don't marry them._

_—Bra Briefs   
_#######

It was bitter outside, the kind of cold that seeped from the air and ached right into your bones. The wind was whipping around, blowing at any and everything it came in contact with. For a moment, Bra thought she'd be blown away before she made it into her own house for her own party.

She was an hour late, her mother was going to explode, but she didn't care. It didn't matter; nothing had mattered for a long time. She closed her eyes, placing her small hand on the doorknob, and drew in a deep breath of air before twisting it. The door swung open without her having to push on it as the wind did it's part in getting her inside.

The entrance was quiet as she forced the door shut and pulled her jacket off. She threw it on the coat hanger and cast a fleeting glance at the stairs. For a moment she thought of heading up those stairs and camping out in one of the guest rooms until it was all over. But she knew she couldn't, if nothing else, her father would find her. Her stomach clinched as she fought a wave of nausea, closing her eyes again.

She was going to make it through this, it was only one night. One night and then she'd never have to do this again because she wasn't coming back, she reminded herself. No one else knew that, but she knew it with every piece of her being, and that was all that mattered.

They'd been taking too much from her for too long. She refused to stand by and let them keep snatching. Her heart was hers, it would belong to her again. Her pride was hers, her dignity hers, she would not let them in so they could grab at the only thing she was clinging to and rip it away from her. It was hers and they would not possess it. She was getting far away from this place and she wasn't looking back.

They could say whatever they wanted once she left. They could think whatever they wanted of her but she would not falter in her dreams. She would rise and rise until they couldn't reach her to tear her apart. She wouldn't let them win; this was war and she wasn't going to stand by and be torpedoed.

She squared her shoulders and pushed her head up, forcing a sweet smile on her lips. This was the last battle before the peace treaty, all she had to do was get out alive. She started to walk towards the den when a voice halted her in her steps. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard it.

"You're late." It was her father, leaning against the wall next to the stairs. She hadn't even seen him there, sensed him there. How did he do that? She turned to the side, to face him, and tilted her head, her phony smile still on her lips.

"I'm sorry, daddy, but I had a lot of things to buy." She bit her lip, waiting for his response, hoping he wouldn't make one last attempt at trying to talk her out of something she was determined to do. He grunted but didn't say anything for a minute.

The air was thick with apprehension as she waited, knowing he was the only one that could truly stop her from doing what she was going to do. No, she promised herself, not stop her. He could deter her, force her to wait a little longer, but he could not stop her. She'd leave sooner or later, with or without his consent.

"Your mother's going to be angry. I don't want her complaining to me." Then he turned and started to walk towards the stairway.

For a second she didn't move, her heart pounding roughly in chest. A lump formed in her throat as she swallowed, a part of her very disappointed. She had expected him to at least try and talk her out of it. Or ask her one last time if she knew what she was doing. She looked up at him as his head disappeared up the stairs and her mouth dropped open in shock and frustration.

He could at least stay for her party. Who did he think he was? Her stomach churned with anger and disgust. She was his only daughter and he wasn't even going to miss her. He wasn't going to demand she stay or ask her if she wouldn't reconsider. Wasn't he even going to wish her good luck?

He had one night left with his daughter and he was going to spend it in his room? She had to remind herself a few times that he didn't know she wasn't coming back. That this was Vegita, not the regular husband and father, and she couldn't expect him to wear his feelings on his sleeve. He didn't want to see her right now, he had to be angry. Or hurt. Or _something_ that she couldn't and wouldn't possibly be able to understand until she had children of her own. _If_ she ever had children of her own. She had to promise herself that he was actually going to miss her. She had to force herself not to cry.

If her father wasn't even sorry to see her go, there was no telling what everyone else felt. She braced herself, her body tensing, as she turned again and headed for the den. She knew, even before entering, that she was she was about to walk into a party. Not a farewell party, like the one that was planned, not her party, but a real _party_. People were going to be smiling and drinking, laughing and dancing, having a general good time. They wouldn't even notice that she hadn't been there.

She prepared herself for it, mentally made herself steel her emotions before she pushed open the swinging doors. But nothing could have prepared her for what she saw first.

#######

Pan was tired and incredibly annoyed. What type of girl didn't show up for her own party? And what people made their child attend a party for someone who wasn't even going to be there? She could have been at home, resting and watching television but she was here instead. Waiting to say goodbye to someone she didn't like, who probably wasn't even going to show.

That was Bra for you, selfish until the very end. It would be just like her to miss her own party. It probably 'slipped her mind' or something like that. Pan wished the girl were here now so she could tell her exactly what she thought about her. So she could tell her that she was glad she was leaving and that she wouldn't miss her.

She sighed, knowing full well that she'd never utter those words out loud. But it was the truth. For the majority of Pan's life Marron and Bra had set out to make her a walking joke. They never let up and she never once thought anything they did was funny. So, with one less enemy to deal with, Pan was not happy pretending to be sad that Bra was leaving. Good riddance, she thought evilly.

The only good thing about this party was that Trunks was here. She smirked lightly, pushing a few strands of hair behind her ear and scanning the room for him again. Was he still with that business man? She hoped not because she wanted him all to herself. She was twenty-one now, very legal and very ready to claim what was hers. And Trunks was definitely hers, she'd written her name on him when she was seventeen and she hadn't let up since. It was time he knew she had no intentions to and accepted his fate.

She spotted him over by the drinks, talking to someone with long, red hair. Pan didn't know who the person was, but she had a sneaking feeling that whoever he was talking to wasn't a business man. She wasn't even a man at all. Pan clenched her fists, sighing softly, and made her way over to the drinks. She hated having to do this.

#######

Trunks tensed as he felt hands wrap around his eyes, trying hard not to swear. He detected her ki instantly, but too late. He hadn't even sensed her approaching until the very second she touched him. He sighed as she leaned against him, feeling her move on tip-toes to whisper just loud enough for the pretty girl that he was talking with to hear.

"Baby, I've been looking for you. Why didn't you come and find me when you got finished talking to Arthur and Scuts?" She purred, moving her hands away from his eyes in time for him to see the pretty red-head, Lavender, walk off. He scowled, hating when she did that and hating her.

"It's _Mr. _Rhuge and _Mr._ Henley, not Arthur and Scuts, first of all. Secondly, I'm not your _baby_. My name, Pan-Chan, is Trunks. Trunks-San to you."

"You don't have to sound so grumpy, Mr. Bad Attitude, I was only coming to introduce myself to your friend. But I guess she wasn't a friend after all, since she just walked away without even a good-bye." Pan smirked, running her fingers softly down his arm before coming around to face him, a devious smile on her face. He growled, low in his throat, and turned away from her.

"Oooh, I like it when you get all angry and silent." She teased, following behind him as he started to walk off.

What was wrong with this girl? Couldn't she take a hint? Trunks drew in a deep breath as he tried his best to ignore her, knowing his anger was too close to a boil right now. He was worried about his sister, who still hadn't showed up, for one thing. And then he had to deal with the business. Now Pan was here, hanging over him again, and he didn't think he could last without bursting.

She used to be such a sweet girl. Always stubborn and disagreeable, yeah, but at least she showed him some forms of respect. But for the last couple of years she'd done nothing except throw herself at him shamelessly. And she wasn't the least bit appealing. She was skinny, yet muscular, and, for her age, incredibly under-developed. He'd never seen her in a dress or acting the least bit lady-like, and he could not even imagine being interested in someone like her. Not that he would have even considered her if she was beauty-queen material. It wasn't so much her looks as it was her personality. He couldn't stand her personality.

She was more stubborn than he was. She argued with him about any and everything. She lost her temper quickly and could never take the hints he sent her to go away. Not to get him wrong, he loved Pan, he just couldn't stand her most of the time. She was like a little sister to him, one you didn't want to be around but wouldn't want to live altogether without. Though, at the moment, some distance would be really great and she just wasn't getting the hint.

"Trunks," She called following him as he walked out of the den and into the kitchen. "What's wrong? You look upset."

"I am upset, Pan, and you're not making things any better." He told her, spinning around and glaring at her. "Stop following me."

"But I _could_ make things better. I'd be much more interesting than that red-head." She winked, drawing closer to him and running one of her fingers down his chest. He sighed, grabbing her hand and pushing it away.

"What will it take, Pan? What do I have to do to get you to go away?" His voice held a note of exasperation along with a strong sense of annoyance, but Pan seemed to ignore it completely.

"All you have to do is admit how in love with me you are. And then I'll go away, for now." She added the last part slyly, her deep brown eyes glinting with mischief and innuendo. Trunks scoffed at her hopelessness.

"You've got to be kidding me." He closed his eyes, trying to call some patience to himself before yelling her head off.

"No, I'm not. You know you want me Trunks. I can see it in your eyes, even if you won't admit it." She continued, walking closer to him with _that look_ in her eyes again. He shuddered.

"Pan, stay away from, okay. I'm really not in the mood. I don't trust myself not to hurt your feelings." He warned, looking at her seriously.

"I'll risk it, I don't think you've got it in you to hurt me." She challenged, still walking forward.

"And if I do?" He questioned, eyebrows raising.

"I'll leave you alone." She paused, biting down on her lip and smirking. "I've got a proposition for you, Trunks, and if you take it up you'll get what you want. What you _really_ want." She informed, placing a hand on her small hip. He looked down at her, doubtful, and waited for her to continue.

"You say you want me to leave you alone," She continued. "But you haven't proven it. So this is what I suggest. One kiss, and I don't mean a peck on the cheek, it's nice to see you, kind of kiss. I mean a serious, open-mouthed, passionate kiss. Just one and if you can pull away, if you can look at me and honestly say you felt nothing, then I'll go. And not just for today, Trunks, I'll go for good. I won't bring 'us' up again."

"One kiss?" He asked, slightly revolted by the idea. "Just one? You promise on your Saiyan honor that if I can prove I'm not interested after this kiss, you'll leave the whole concept of you and me alone? Forever?"

"Promise." She nodded, holding her pinky out. "Pinky-swear it." He held his own out, linking them together while refraining from mentioning how childish the motion was. At least he knew she was serious.

"All right, Pan." He agreed, nodding his head and hoping she held up her end of the bargain. As for his part, he was fully confident he would be able to pull away from her.

#######

Bra drew her shoulders back, pushing a smile back onto her lips, and tried to stop the automatic lurching of her stomach; it didn't work. She was able, however, to suppress the urge to hurl. There before her, the first thing she saw, was _them_. Kissing. She felt the instant and familiar sting of anger curl up inside her, swirling around in her stomach and making silly patterns of fury.

She clenched her fists, digging her nails into her skin, and sucked in her breath. There she was, dark hair spiraling down past her shoulders in voluminous waves, arms wrapped around his neck, kissing him. How dare he kiss her when Bra was late to her own party? How dare he not be worrying about Bra instead? How dare he not even notice she'd just walked in?

She knew her thoughts were slightly ridiculous but she didn't care. She hoped Paris choked on his saliva and died. Then she thought about how sad that would probably make Goten, how sad she would be watching him be sad, and changed her mind. Instead, Bra wished _she _would keel over and die; maybe Goten would miss her if she were dead. He would, she nodded, they all would, especially her father.

She mumbled a curse under her breath and walked further into the room, noticing her mother heading in her direction with fire dancing in her eyes. She was in for it. It was too bad she didn't even have the energy to be embarrassed or ashamed. She was only angry, and even her anger was being clouded over with pity and frustration. Even her anger was ebbing away, being replaced with an empty, fading feeling. She felt her eyes burn, knowing no tears would fall, as she accepted the fact that she was invisible to him. No wonder she was leaving, he looked right through her anyway.

How was it that the only person that ever managed to really see her, to see her pain, her intelligence, her heart, was the same person that managed to look right past her? How could he not see how much he meant to her, how much she needed him? What did she have to do? Pain it on her forehead? Probably, she thought sadly. But she wouldn't because he loved Paris. He'd told her, he'd told everyone, last week how much he loved Paris. She couldn't do that to him, couldn't complicate his life the way hers was complicated.

She only ever wanted him to be happy. And he looked happy shoving his tongue down Paris' throat. Too bad it wasn't contagious, she couldn't remember the last time she had smiled and meant it.

No, that wasn't true, she could remember. It was when she fell in love with him. She let the memory of that day take over her brain as her mother approached her, yelling in a soft whisper about how angry she was. Bra placed a contrite look on her face and drifted back in time, ignoring her mother completely.

She remembered being upset, thinking that her life was over. But at the age of sixteen, every little thing made you feel that life was over. Goten had been there when she was distraught, reading it in her eyes when even her mother had missed it. Her mother, who was usually very perceptive about such things. He had asked her what was wrong and she'd told him about the guy she'd been dating. For her age, they had been very serious, and she was very upset about the way things ended. She was telling about what a jerk he'd been and Goten had simply smiled lightly, kissed her cheek, and told her that any guy that couldn't treat her as good as, or better than, the way Goten treated her, wasn't worth her time.

And that was it. All it took. She'd beamed up at him, ideas being planted dangerously in her head like seeds, and sprouting there. Before she could stop it, the weeds had festered and took over her mind. She was in love with him and all he'd had to do was say a few simple words. But it was more than that, it was the way he saw her, clearer than anyway else. It was the way he smiled at her and made her feel like no one else mattered. It was the way her heart skipped when she saw him and her hands shook. It was everything mixed into one thing, and there was no changing it.

Over the years, it had only gotten stronger and more serious. Only more painful, more heart wrenching. Then he found Paris and her heart shattered and splintered into a million pieces. Before Paris, Goten hadn't dated the same girl for more than three weeks, one month tops. But Paris and Goten had been getting together and breaking up for almost four years, and there was nothing Bra could do to protect her heart. It was too late, she couldn't take it back.

Yet, she was past the age of believing everything was possible; she knew fairy tales weren't real. And it hurt to love him, really hurt to care about him. Knowing that it would always be unrequited; knowing there would never be anyone else like him, no one that made her feel the way he did, and she wouldn't settle for less—he had specifically told her not to and she'd take that instruction to heart—made her heart hurt all the more genuinely.

And now she was stuck. Loving him but not liking him for it, needing him but not wanting him. Hurting and not being able to escape it. This year alone she'd gone out with a different guy every two weeks, broken up with at least twenty guys, maybe more, and never had a relationship that had lasted more than four weeks. This year alone she'd been crowned the queen of flirting, the life of the party, and the sunshine during the storm. Dende knew she had no idea how, either. Bra was the saddest person on earth and no one seemed to notice.

Trunks had asked her once, once he'd had the intuition to wonder what was making his sister bounce from guy to guy, but it had resulted in an all-out fight. It was none of his business what was eating her up inside. It was none of his concern why she was so unhappy. She wasn't unhappy, she promised him, just confused. That was when New York was first brought up. They had an art school there, he'd told her softly. They had new opportunities there and, maybe it would do her some good to get some fresh, new air. Make new friends and try and find herself again. At this, she'd lost it completely, screaming that she wasn't 'lost' to herself and she would do what she wanted, when she wanted. If he didn't want her around, all he had to do was say so.

He hadn't mentioned it again. But his advice had not gone on deaf ears. She'd thought about it for months before she brought it up to her parents. Then they'd thought on it for months before they finally accepted the idea. When it finally got back around Trunks, what she was going to do, she was sure he'd forgotten that he even mentioned it in the first place. He certainly didn't make a show of gloating about it. Telling her that he'd told her so. In fact, he hadn't been saying much of anything to her lately and that thought made her blood run cold.

Her brother was, by far, her best friend. She'd told him every thing until her feelings for Goten started screwing up her life, and he had always come to her for advice. They had always been open with each other until she started to spiral downward. And now, now he couldn't even look at her without seeming upset. It made her sadder than anything to know she'd lost the only person she'd ever truly had loving her unconditionally. That was the last straw, the real reason she needed to get away. Besides not wanting to be here when Goten decided he wanted to marry Paris, she didn't want to see the disappointment in her brother's eyes. She used to be his prize.

She was turning out to be nothing more than a big mistake. She was sure that was how her parents felt. That was how she felt. Looking distastefully about her, realizing that her mother was still yelling at her in a whisper, she couldn't concentrate on anything. She didn't even realize her breathing had started to come in rapid succession. The room started to drift away from her, everything became distant, faded. She felt the world spinning, slipping away, felt herself slipping and gladly welcomed the fall.

Everything blacked then came back quickly, like strobe lights were flashing. Only, when she opened her eyes again, everything was gray. All color had faded. Her mother was hovering over her, a worried look on her face, a crowd beginning to gather, and the world was upside down. She sighed and closed her eyes, letting darkness envelope her and praying that the feeling lasted forever. They would all miss her if she died...

#######

She approached him timidly, not really knowing how he would react to her proposition. But he didn't seem concerned, she'd just have to prove to him that she was something to get worked up over. She was going to make him stutter, she thought confidently, after he nodded his head in confirmation. She fought back the smirk that wanted to conquer her lips, but it won. Sighing contentedly, she wrapped her arms around his neck and got up on her tip-toes, heart pounding wildly.

This was all she'd ever wanted in life. To be in his arms, to be this close to him for eternity. To be held and secured by his strong hands, his muscled arms. He meant the world to her, couldn't he see that? She knew that all he had to do was search his heart, his soul, and he'd find her there. That he went from woman to woman because he was really looking for her. She was ingrained in his heart and she would fight to her death to make him see it.

She couldn't help the way she felt, with all of her heart and soul, with her entire being. She just couldn't stop it, fight it, she couldn't control it. There was no one like him, no one that she wanted to touch as bad as him, there was no place she wanted to be that didn't include him. She was addicted to him and loved every moment of it. Everything she did in life, every breath she took and step she made, was because he'd influenced it. And if that wasn't worth fighting for, worth putting everything on the line for, if that wasn't worth trying for, she didn't know what was.

She'd do anything for him, even if it meant leaving him alone forever. But she didn't think that would be necessary, there was no way he wouldn't feel this. The passion she felt for him existed in every part of her being, from her toes all the way to the roots of her wild black hair, and she was going to shove every bit of it in this kiss. He'd choke on his own tongue before he told her that she meant nothing to him, that this kiss meant nothing.

She closed her eyes and tilted her head up, pressing her lips against his with a fierceness. His lips opened willingly against hers, as part of their deal, and her mouth parted to accommodate his. Her body leaned against his, her mind willing her body to press every bit of love she had for him into his body, onto his lips. Her tongue snaked from her mouth and into his own, his head dropping down farther, letting her in. She felt his hold on her relax and then tighten, fight his inner fight, and inwardly she smiled. She had him.

But just as quickly as the triumph tickled from her brain, down her spine, filling her with hope, it was sucked back up. His head jerked back, slightly slower than if he had been shocked, but not slow enough to suggest he was reluctant to pull away, and he glared down at her.

"Are you happy?" He questioned, backing away from her as she tried to clear the dazed expression on her face. "I pulled away."

"No I'm not happy, Trunks," Pan announced, frowning up at him in disbelief. Was he serious? Did he think she wasn't there while they kissed? It was magical, electrical. She couldn't have felt that alone. She had _felt_ him get lost in her. "You haven't said that you didn't feel anything. And it doesn't matter if you look me in the face and lie, I know you felt that. I was there, remember? So, you see, you lost." She pointed out, her eyebrows drawing together as she dared him to challenge her.

"Pan," He paused, lifting his own eyebrows and smirking at her. She felt her heart drop from fear, wondering what he was about to say. He had that look on his face that suggested he was about to crush a business partner without mercy. He could be quite ruthless when he wanted to be. But he'd never looked at her like that before, she had never been afraid that he might hurt her.

Now she knew he would.

"I hate to crush your childhood dreams but I didn't feel anything from that kiss but your lips. And then you tongue. Trust me, it was none too pleasurable for me. Besides, why would I lie about it?" He questioned, amusement glittering in his eyes as if he thought she was the stupidest, funniest thing he'd ever come across. She felt her stomach drop. He wasn't lying. Trunks couldn't look someone straight in the face and _lie_. At least, not her.

She was stunned, speechless for a moment before she regained herself. The anger and embarrassment gathering up in her heart and heating up her face. He couldn't be serious. He _had _to be lying. There was no way he couldn't have felt that. But tiny shivers of doubt danced up and down her spine as she thought it. There was a way. Trunks had probably kissed millions of girls, experienced girls, and didn't need to be impressed by her. She didn't have a lot of practice and she certainly wasn't the most talented. But she loved him! She had to be the only one that had ever kissed him like that because none of the others loved him like she loved him. It wasn't possible that someone else had made him feel the way she felt about him. It couldn't be possible.

"You know what your problem is Trunks? You just don't want to admit what I did to you. You don't want to be honest and say that you felt that. You're lying, you're a dirty liar, I know you are."

"We made a deal, Pan." He told her, the anger evident in his eyes now. "You said that you would leave me alone if I told you, honestly, that this kiss meant nothing. And I did. I expect you to abide by it."

"Ne-_ver_." She nearly shouted, fighting back the sting in her eyes that told her she was about to lose it. "I won't keep promises to people that lie without blinking. How could you?"

"Pan, I don't know what I have to do to make you see that I don't want you. That I'll never want you. What do you have to hear? Huh?"

She rocked back on her feet, glaring at him and throwing her hands on her under-developed hips. "There's nothing you can say. I don't listen to liars." She informed him softly, deadly, eyes narrowing.

"No? You don't? Well, will you listen to this then? Listen to how I couldn't be interested in you, ever, how I could never be in love with a little girl. Don't you see how sick that is, Pan?"

Her breathing hitched, eyes closing as she shook her head, trying to speak but not being able to. A lump built up in her throat as she tried to open her mouth and counter him. She wasn't a girl, she was twenty-one. She was grown, legally grown, couldn't he see that?

As if reading her mind, he continued. "Can't you see that no matter how old you get you'll always be a child to me? Can't you see that even when you age, so do I, and my interest in women changes? That you'll _never_ be my type, ever, Pan?" She shook her head again, defiantly. His words ripping at her soul as she tried not to cry.

"Oh, you can't? Well, let me help you see, why don't I?" He challenged, putting his hand on her chin and squeezing until she opened her eyes to glare at him fully. "And you'll look at me while I tell you this, look me in the eyes so that you'll know I'm not a 'dirty liar'. You'll look at me and listen to me and you won't interrupt a word of it. Do you understand me?"

He squeezed her chin until she nodded before continuing, anger clouding his cerulean eyes and making them turn a deep, dark blue. "I will never be interested in you, Pan Son, no matter how old you are because _you_ are very immature. You're pushy, you talk too much when you're not supposed to, not enough when you are. You're spoiled and you whine, you expect your own way in everything, you're more self-involved than anyone I've ever met, and to top it off, you're not exactly pretty." He paused and she snatched her chin from his grip, looking him right into his eyes out of spite. Her eyes, she could tell, had glazed over, and she was trying hard not to cry.

Her body was shaking, she wasn't sure if she was very angry or very hurt, and her mind was spinning a mile a minute. How could he say those thing to her? Each word, each insult, each thing he said, tearing a bit of her pride and ripping into her soul. But he wasn't through, he kept on, pouring salt onto her open wounds. She drew in a breath, keeping herself under control, pushing her ki down forcefully, trying not to break apart. Feeling her heart crush, shatter, and spill on the floor. She never imagined it would be possible to hurt this much and couldn't imagine feeling more pain.

But every time she had the thought, her heart throbbed again, until she was positive that it couldn't get any worse. It did.

"What you lack in grace, you insult by adding your tomboyishness to," He continued, glaring at her and ignoring the fact that she was clearly trying to keep her cool. Clearly trying not to lose her composure. Clearly trying not to fall apart and tear him to smithereens. "You fight, you spit, and you behave just like a boy. You're lewd, loud, and lack delicacy and tradition." Just when she thought he was finished, he said the one thing she knew hurt more than any other put together, "You need home training, and, in all honestly, you need to learn how to be submissive. No, Pan you're not a woman and you've got a long way to go yet. By the time you get there I'll be too old and still, I won't be interested."

"_Submissive_?" She repeated, cutting him off before he could think up more insults. Her voice was weak, shaky. She sounded as if she'd been screaming for a very long time and it was finally taking a toll on her. In a way, she had. She'd been screaming on the inside the whole time he talked to her. "Well, I hope you're done, Trunks! I hope you got it all off your chest! Is there anything else you'd like to say before I tell you why you would be _lucky _if I ever show interest in you again? Why you're going to regret the day you ever opened your mouth to tell me why you couldn't love me? Why you're going to wish you had held your tongue years from now?"

He sighed, closing his eyes in what appeared to be annoyance, and rocked back on his feet. But she didn't care. He was going to hear this if it killed her.

"Because," She continued, her voice still horse. "Because you're wrong, I'm not a girl. I may not be a woman, but one day I will be. And when I am, you're going to regret it, you're going to hate yourself. And not because you could have had me but didn't get me, but because you didn't get _anyone_. You're a double-faced liar, Trunks. _You_ are despicable and _no one_ is more self-involved than you. You're a coward, Trunks Vegita Briefs, a self-involved, insecure, lowlife of a coward.

"You can't leave your mother, you can't find a job you love, you couldn't make a success of yourself alone, and you couldn't capture any other woman's attention for the long run. And you know what? You'll never be able to. You'll always rely on your mother for everything because you'll always be a coward. You'll never make anything of yourself because you'll always be a lowlife. And no woman will ever look at you and see you for who you really are, what you want them to see about you because they'll never understand you the way I do.

"You know why? Because you're rich, famous, and alien. News flash Briefs, _I_ was your last chance and you just blew it. Any one else you ever come across will never know all of you. They'll see your money and be disgusted by your ancestry or they'll see you for who you are and be distracted by your wealth and fame. No one will ever accept it all. The decent women hate that you're in the spotlight, the frivolous ones are repulsed by your superhuman strength. This was it for you buddy."

She spat viciously, still thinking about the way he'd just come up with all those insults he'd said to her. He hadn't thought about them for long and, yet, he'd meant every word. It was as if the thoughts had been festering in his head for a long time and just waiting to burst out. And they probably had. That hurt more than anything he could have ever done to her. He'd captured every single one of her insecurities and pointed them out as flaws. The only person she'd ever loved more than life, more than the air she breathed, had just told her every single reason why she wasn't perfect and that he'd never care for her because of it.

She hated him. She hoped he fell off the face of the earth, right into the pit of hell, and burned for all eternity.

He was glaring at her, gripping his fists tightly, as he watched her bite down on her lip. She felt blood trickle down the side of her lip as they stared at each other, glaring dangerously. Neither said a word, both their breathing labored, as Pan turned around and walked out of the kitchen, feeling Trunks follow her.

There was a crowd in the den, gathered around something or other, but she couldn't see anything. Only red. She didn't look back as she walked out of the den, down the hall and out the door. Tears were threatening her, begging to fall, but she sucked in a breath and shook her head. She'd never cry over him, she would never let him affect her like that, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. He didn't deserve it. She wasn't some _child_ that couldn't control her emotions. She would _never_ cry over this. She'd show him. She'd never love him again, and she'd never forgive him. And, even if it killed her, she'd never _see_ him again. She'd promised him that she would leave him alone, if he could convince her that she meant nothing to him, and he'd done it. She was going to keep her promise.

From this moment on, Trunks-San did not exist. Even as she thought it, the tears slipped past her defenses and rolled down her cheeks.

_To be continued..._


	3. Unacceptable

Rainwater  
Chapter 2: Unacceptable   
Rating: R for sexual situations and suggestions, adult topics and language.  
_WitchyPrincess_

_Unacceptable_

_They tell me I'm spiteful. When they look into my eyes they say they don't see love anymore. They ask me what's gone wrong and they profess that they only want to help. But who the hell do they think they are? First, that I would want their help is presumptuous. Second, thinking that I would need it is even worse. _

_I'm going to be fine all my own. Without their sympathy hugs and 'caring' conversation. The only thing I've ever asked for is to be treated like a responsible, well-educated adult. If they can't give me that then I don't want the offer. _

_But despite all the anger that's wrapped around my refusal, sometimes when I'm all alone and it's quiet - when there's no one there to converse with me - I listen to the silence. I hear their voices echoing in my head and I know there's truth to their concern. I am spiteful. I have lost the loving look in my eyes. My innocence flew out the window somewhere in adolescence, and it took my self-respect with it. _

_Now, I realize in those honest moments, I'm struggling for breath at the bottom of an ocean filled with anguish and issue. I can't find my way to the top. I can't breathe and I can't swim up either. I'm lonely and I'm frightened. But I'm afraid that showing that weakness will make me exactly that, weak, so I cover it up with hate and disrespect. _

_So, yeah, maybe I am spiteful more than I need to be. Maybe I'm impulsive and unresponsive. Maybe I'm cynical and downright nasty. But, maybe, just maybe I'm looking for a lifeline somewhere, just waiting for someone to throw me one, and you're all missing the message. I don't want a kind look or a considerate pat on the back. I want acceptance for who and what I am. I'm sick of being _nearly_ perfect, dammit, I want to be good enough for once. _

_Don't tell me I'm breaking your heart when I act impulsively, as I always tend to do. Don't chastise me for repeating errors. Stop trying to control what I do and say. Stop bringing up my past mistakes in the midst of my praise, or recalling what a failure I turned out to be. The golden hope of the generation, the one that had the best chance to be a woman Super-Saiyan, the one that could never quite get there. Don't remind me. Just hug me and hold me and accept me. _

_And please, stop breaking my fragile heart._

_—Pan Son_  
#######

Pan cursed herself, amazed that after all these years she could still get stupider. She still hadn't learned her lesson with twenty-five years of experience. What would it take? She thought cynically, heaving a heavy sigh and closing her eyes, throwing the phone across her living room floor. He wasn't going to call, she knew he wasn't going to call. He'd said he would, she'd thought he would, but she was being stupid again.

She believed him, that was what really got her. She'd lost herself in his arms, was blissfully naive, and lost in daydreams. Now she was wide awake and reality sucked. She couldn't believe he was doing this to her. She couldn't believe she was surprised.

She'd only slept with one other guy in her life and he hadn't called back either. What had she expected? Had she actually thought he'd fall all over himself and profess his undying love for her just because she opened up to him? Let him touch her the way no one else had? Had she truly expected him to call? The truth was, she had. And the truth hurt more than anything anyone could ever do to her.

Here she was, wasting her time thinking about some guy that probably had forgotten all about her at the moment. But he had meant something to her. And it wasn't as if she had just casually fallen into his bed, they'd been dating for months. Almost eight months, to be exact. She wished she didn't care about him, wished she hadn't trusted him. She knew better in the beginning, knew what putting your trust in someone led to. She still had the scars from four years ago to prove it. So why had she given herself so fully to him?

Because she was sure he'd call. She admitted to herself silently. All the other times he'd said he would call her and hadn't, while they were dating, were forgotten. They hadn't slept together then. Then he had the right to not call. Now he simply didn't.

She looked at the phone, lying on the floor in one piece, and wondered if it were broken. Narrowing her eyes, she stood up and walked over to it, picking it up. She turned it on and dialed a few numbers, waiting impatiently for the ring. After three, someone picked up and she sighed in disappointment. It couldn't be broken if someone were answering her, now could it?

"Sydney?" Pan asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, Pan, it is my phone number that you dialed. And the people that you call typically do pick up their phones." Her friend remarked sarcastically as Pan smirked lightly.

"Yeah, yeah. Listen, do me a favor, okay?"

"Depends. What is it?"

"Call me back when I hang up?" There was silence on the other end. Then,

"Why?" Pan smiled. That was Sydney, right to the point.

"I want to see if my phone works." She informed, trying not to sound stupid. Sydney sighed.

"Brandon hasn't called?" She asked dryly, already knowing the answer. "This is the third time, Pan. When are you going to drop him? Every time he does this you know what he's doing. And then he comes back with flowers and candy and you open the door for him. Why do you do that to yourself? I don't understand it."

"Listen, Sid, spare me the lecture and just call me back, okay?"

"No," The girl replied angrily. "Your phone works fine, that's how you're talking to me."

"But maybe the ringer-"

"_Pan_, no. Let it go. And the next time he shows up at your door, kick his ass to the curb." With that, Pan heard Sydney hang up the phone, and grumbled under her breath as she pressed the 'end' button. Some help that was, Pan thought angrily, trying not to get worked up.

She needed to get out of this apartment. She needed to go somewhere to clear her head. She couldn't sit here all day and wait for Brandon to call, that would be sad. That would be beyond sad, she silently acknowledged, it would be pathetic.

She'd go to the park. She smiled to herself at the thought, getting up to put something decent on. She was tired of going crazy over this guy. Tired of waiting for him to realize that she was worth it. She wouldn't waste another second praying that he opened his eyes. She didn't understand why he couldn't see her for what she was, but she wished he'd learn how to. She liked him - she really liked him.

#######

Bra sighed sadly, looking down at the letter in her hands and trying to keep her hands from shaking. This wasn't necessarily a bad thing, she reminded herself. This wasn't exactly a death sentence. It could just be one of her father's fleeting mood swings, it could just be a request. But, as she looked back down at the letter and a chill flew through her, she knew it wasn't a request. This was a command - a _demand_. And it was to be done immediately. Two weeks.

This wasn't just a fleeting thing either, she realized, looking down at the words written on the paper. This was permanent. He meant for good. Always and forever. And he had the power to make sure she adhered to his wishes.

She knew that she could only be away as long as her parents were willing to allow her freedom, that if they demanded she come back, there would be no fighting it. No matter how old she got. Her father could find her anywhere, could bring her back anytime, and she couldn't do a thing to stop it. She thought over her options again, setting the letter down as she drew in a deep breath to calm her nerves.

She tried to look at the bright side, tried to find the silver lining. She'd had four years to discover herself. They had let her have her freedom for much longer than she'd originally thought they would. She had put up a fight, had told them that she wasn't ever going back, and thought they would let her be. But she was wrong. The matter hadn't been solved at all, only postponed. They weren't going to give her any freedom after all. They had only been tricking her all this time and there wasn't a thing she could do about it. She had been wrong; this was a bad thing. A very bad thing.

Two weeks. She had two weeks to get all her stuff together and get a flight home. Two weeks before she fell back into hell. What was she going to do?

#######

Pan threw her door open, fighting the urge to lose all control and head back to the park, find that son-of-a-bitch, and kick his ass. She couldn't _believe_ she'd been so stupid. Her father had warned her in the beginning. Her father had 'told her so'. Brandon, he'd said, was no good for her. He would break her heart and laugh when it was over. Gohan hadn't wanted her to see Brandon. Gohan had refused to stand by and watch his daughter ruin her life with that 'good for nothing boy'.

He'd told her that she shouldn't get involved with anyone she worked with. Especially not her boss. Had told her that she was making a mistake. That thought by itself made Pan more upset than she had been about anything Brandon did. Dende, sometimes she hated her father. If he'd just mind his business and stop being so right about everything in her life, it would be okay.

This was his fault, she thought bitterly. If Gohan had been nice to Brandon they wouldn't have had their last argument and he wouldn't have walked out on her. He would have called her. She wouldn't have seen him in the park, holding hands with some girl that wasn't her, leaning down to kiss her on the lips. She wouldn't be this upset right now if her father had just kept his stupid mouth shut.

If he had been supportive instead of telling Pan how dumb she was. If he wasn't right about it. Why was life so unfair? She thought, her throat constricting as she slid down her door and drew her knees up to her chin. She closed her eyes and let the sobs come, let the tears slide down her cheeks, let herself lose it.

Would she ever be good enough for anybody? Would anyone just look at her and accept her? Hold her and not ask questions? Would anyone simply love her without wanting anything in return, without hurting her, without taking away her pride? Would she ever, ever find happiness somewhere?

Could someone love you if you didn't love yourself?

#######

She walked into the office with a swing to her hips, head high. She didn't look at the people around her as she made her way to the back, to her desk, and picked up a box with vengeance. She started to throw things in it; her pencil box flew in, pencils scattering, her notes, her papers, her pictures. Everything went into the box with a loud clang as she worked with a furry fueling her on. She heard people gasp, felt them stop to watch her, heard them whispering that she'd lost her mind.

Some of them knew the truth. Especially the people to the right of her. Where the girl was, Mai. The girl that Brandon had been with at the park. Pan looked up and glared at her as the girl shrank back, lowering her head to her desk. She heard the office door swing open loudly and knew who it was without looking at him. He stormed right to the back, his face set.

He stopped in front of her desk as she opened the drawer and yanked it out, turning it upside down over the box and shaking everything in. Her face was set into a scowl that would have scared Vegita so she was shocked when he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Pan?" He asked softly as she stopped, looking up into his green eyes.

"What the hell do _you_ want?" She asked, not bothering to lower her voice for privacy. He shrunk back, wincing.

"Calm down, come into my office and tell me what's wrong." He commanded, speaking softly and letting his eyes glance around the room nervously.

"I don't want to be anywhere alone with you, you s.o.b." She vented, narrowing her eyes but not lowering her voice. "I have nothing to say to you except," She threw the drawer down on her desk and reached into her pants pocket, pulling out a note. "Here." She thrust the note into his chest and picked up her box.

"What's this?" He asked hesitantly, trying not to show his fear as he gripped the paper.

"My two week notice, I quit." She started walking away as he stared at it in shock. Then, she heard him kick into action, walking behind her quickly.

"Then where are you going? Two weeks means ten working days, Pan."

"I have a vacation coming up, I'm taking it." She told him over her shoulder, her voice ice cold and biting. "I expect to get paid for these two weeks, too. Or I'll come back in here and _trust me_, you don't want me back in here."

"Pan, let's talk about this. I don't know what's wrong but I'm sure we can work it out. You realize, don't you, that you were about to be promoted. You can't walk out now, it would be career sui-"

She spun around so fast he lost his train of thought. Her black hair flipped in front of her face as she glowered at him, her lips curling in contempt. "Promote _Mai_. I never want to see you again." With that she spun back around and continued to walk, hearing scattered whispers of gossip about her as she made her way out of the office.

Screw him, she thought angrily, storming away. Screw all men. They were bad news. Every single one of them. Love just wasn't for her, she admitted as she pushed the building door opened and practically ran to her car in the parking lot. She slammed her box down on the passenger seat, after she'd opened the door, and then slammed the door shut again.

She had to get the hell away from here, she thought angrily. She was going home; not back to her apartment, but back _home_. To her mother and father's house. She hadn't been around lately, living in Tokyo had kept her away.

#######

Bra felt her heart beating all the way down in her ankles as she stepped off the private jet and looked at the faces before her. Her mother looked like she wanted to cry, her eyes big and glassy as she looked up at Bra, her father was stoic, as usual, the scowl set on his face in permanent ugly, and her brother had a look of anticipation that made it clear he was happy to see her. She was only glad to see her brother and walked right to him, smiling as she fell into his embrace.

"Been a long time, big brother, since I was home." She whispered, still smiling as he ran his hands over her hair and tussled it.

"Yeah, a little visit every month is never enough of me." He teased, smirking down at her. "I've missed you." He whispered back, letting her go. She nodded and backed away, turning to smile at her father. He grunted and nodded his head, his eyes shining despite his cold demeanor.

She sighed and ran up to him, wrapping her arms around his neck as he grunted again, smirking this time. "Brat. You look excited for someone so against coming home."

"Well, make the best of what you've got." She answered distantly, pulling away from him. "Especially when you don't have a choice." She added, her tone slightly biting. Before he could chastise her, she turned again and ran to her mother, throwing her arms around the woman.

Bulma nearly strangled her with the grip she had around Bra's waist as she hugged back. "You are never leaving home again." Bulma warned, turning her eyes into small slits as she pulled away from her daughter. "Look at you," She marveled, making Bra move back so that she could examine.

Bra spun around, letting her mother gather the full view. Her hair was still long and flowing, but it was more full now, wavy and touching her mid-back. Her blue jeans were low cut and hugged her body, her red shirt showing off the bottom half of her stomach and back. Bulma gasped as she caught a glimpse of her daughter's back.

"_Bra_!" She admonished. "I've never seen that before." She sounded almost in awe as her eyes landed on the head of the dragon the protruded from the tip of Bra's jeans. "When did you get a tattoo?" She sounded more curious than angry as she asked. Bra blushed and shrugged her shoulders as if it were no big deal, avoiding her father's and brother's gazes. She could tell they were scowling.

"What kind of tattoo?" Trunks asked, turning her around so that he could see her back. He put his finger on her jeans, pushing the hem of the jeans down a little. She jumped and narrowed her eyes, trying to turn around and push his hands away; he wouldn't let her move.

"This is Shenlong," He said after a moment, staring. "And it looks like the dragon balls are there too." He added, looking up at his father and moving his fingers away. She spun around, glaring.

"_And_," She added defiantly. "Nimbus is at the bottom of it all." She crossed her arms and smirked, daring them to challenge her. Both Bulma and Trunks looked to Vegita, seeing what he was going to say. But Vegita only snorted and turned around.

"Let's get home, brats. I'm sure the woman has lots of planning to do." Bulma smiled lightly and nodded, her eyes gleaming.

"I can't wait until every gets together so they can see how beautiful you are now. This is going to be wonderful, sweetheart."

"You're throwing a party?" Bra asked, faltering in her step. Her mother nodded. "No," Bra stated firmly. "You can't throw me a party. I don't want to see anyone." She shook her head, blue hair swaying back and forth.

"Don't be silly," Bulma informed her offhandedly. "I've already sent out the invitations."

Bra groaned, following behind her parents and shooting another dirty look at her brother. He shrugged and gave an offended, innocent look that told her, without words, that he couldn't help it.

"Mother does what mother wants to do." Trunks muttered, elbowing his sister as they walked to the air car. He saw that sad look in her eyes again and he didn't like it. He'd do anything to make her smile.

"Will Pan be there?" She asked, her blue eyes looking into his searchingly. There was hope there, he saw it spark behind her eyes. But why? He wondered, shifting uncomfortably. When had she started to like Pan?

He hadn't thought of Pan in at least three years, hadn't seen her in nearly four. Since Bra's last party, when they parted on such bad terms. She'd been doing everything in her power, since then, to avoid him and he'd been doing the same. Now why would Bra be asking about her? They'd never been close before.

"I'm sure she got an invitation." He answered evasively, trying not to blush because he was so distracted by the thought of seeing Pan again. The mere thought of her made his stomach turn with anger and apprehension. He wasn't sure if he was guilty or angry, but he didn't like the feeling either way. He'd broken her young heart and he knew she'd never forgive him for it. But, more than that, she'd broken his.

Her words hadn't been taken lightly. They had hit too close to home. She'd been too close to the truth for him to ignore them. He hated her for it. But he felt bad for her because of what he'd done. And both the conflicting emotions made him think he'd lose his mind. It was better to just avoid the subject of Pan all together. And then there was the issue of that kiss.

That mind-blowing, body-numbing kiss. A kiss that he'd looked her directly in the face and lied about. He wasn't exactly sure why, except that he didn't want her. And he certainly didn't want to be attracted to her. But clearly he had been. That kiss had shaken him from the inside out, it was so intense. No one, not one person since, had ever kissed him like that. Like he was their whole world and they never wanted anything else but him. And he'd been looking.

Bra's words drew him out of the haunting thoughts. "But is she coming?" She asked impatiently.

"Do you want her to come?" He avoided again, trying not to shift his gaze. She'd know something was up if he looked away from her.

"Yes, I do. There's something I want to discuss with her. If I'm going to be staying here, it's not going to be like last time. She's got to help me with something so, yes, I need to see her. Will you make sure she comes?" She asked, eyes boring into him with her plea.

He couldn't look at his sister and tell her no. He couldn't turn her down when he saw the first glimmers of happiness that he had seen in a long time. He couldn't crush that light in her face. He'd give anything, _anything_ to make sure she found her peace of mind again.

Watching Bra before she left, and these last four years, was like watching a dead man walking. She'd had nose bleeds from stress, passed out from being too upset. She'd lost her appetite often from being distressed. She'd lost her hope, her happiness, her glow. And it killed him to see it and know there was nothing he could do about it. She was his sister, for Dende's sake. She was the only person he'd ever truly loved unconditionally. She deserved to smile and be happy, even if he wasn't.

If there was a way he could give it to her, he was going to. No matter what it cost him.

"Yeah, Bra. I'll make sure she comes." He promised, patting her shoulder and turning her around, making her start to walk toward the car again. "Now, let's go before father loses his patience with us." He teased, trying to smile through the lump in his throat. He was the reason Pan wouldn't want to come, how was _he _going to get her to come?

#######

"Don't forget, Pan, that you need to be at Capsule Corps in three hours. Please don't be late." Her mother reminded, a slight plea to her voice. Pan scowled, crossing her arms and giving her mother a 'yeah right' look.

"I told you that I'm not going to that and I meant it, mom." Pan told her stubbornly, pulling on her jacket. "I just wish I hadn't come home, is all." She muttered, forgetting that her mother was still in the room.

"Pan," Her mother chastised, closing her eyes and silently praying for strength. "All your father was trying to say is that you need to be more responsible in your decisions. You're a wonderful girl, it's just that you're so..."

"Why do people do that?" Pan interrupted, glaring. "Why do you and dad always follow the 'lovely girl' line with 'it's just...'? Why is there _always_ something wrong with me?" She challenged, trying not to raise her voice.

"Let's not do this," Videl shook her head, trying to avoid another fight. "You've already had it out with your father."

"As far as I'm concerned he can fester in it until I die. I'm not apologizing." Pan warned, her voice raising despite herself. "Do you remember what he said to me? Do you remember how he butted into my life? How he threw my mistakes in my face as if I'm not trying? He had _no right_ to make me feel like that. No right to practically tell me I was a screw up!"

"He did not." Videl argued, trying not to lose her patience with her over-emotional daughter. "You're just distraught. It's only been three weeks since you ended things with Brandon and you're looking for someone to blame. Let's not do this."

"Why do you always think this is about something less than what it is? Dad and I are _always_ arguing and it's never about what it really is, with you. Dad thinks I'm an idiot. He's disappointed in me, nothing I ever do is enough for him. Nothing I try is right to him! And you take up for him like everything's my fault. You're no better."

"Pan, just go on home so you can get ready for the party." Videl warned, placing her thumb and pointer fingers on the bridge of her nose in frustration. She was starting to get a headache.

"You don't listen to me and dad practically hates me. Then you wonder why I am the way I am. I _told _you - I'm not going to that stupid ass party. I'd rather die."

"First," This was her father's booming voice, anger emanating in his eyes as he walked into the room. "You will watch your language when you talk to your mother. Second, you _will_ go to this party because it would be incredibly rude if you didn't. This isn't just some random excuse for music and dancing, Pan, this is a welcome home thing for Bra. The girl has been gone for four years and the least you can do is make an appearance."

Pan put on the meanest scowl she could muster, trying hard not to continue to yell at her parents. They were always like this. But this was her life and if she didn't want to go somewhere, it was her damn decision. If she wanted to swear, it was her decision. If she wanted to sleep with her boss, well, that was her choice too. They had no say in it. None.

"Anything else you'd like to dictate about my life, father?" She questioned, the bite clear in her voice.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. You will lose that tone with me and take off the insolent look on your face. You may live in your own house and be old enough to do what you want on your own time, but I am still your father and you will show me respect, young lady." He responded, forehead wrinkling.

"And while you're at it, you'll apologize to your mother for yelling at her. And then you'll put a smile on your face instead of looking so nasty, you might get stuck like that."

"According to some," She started, keeping her tone and scowl. "I already have." She spun around, grabbing the doorknob and pulled on it. Her father was behind her in an instant, pulling her back with the angriest expression she'd ever seen on his face She almost quivered from fear, she fought hard so that she didn't.

"Pan, I've always only had your best interest at heart. But if you feel so strongly that I'm ruining your life then fine, I'll just bite my tongue." He told her, the anger seeping into his words. "I won't say anything anymore, won't interfere in the least unless you specifically ask for my opinion. I'll keep my mouth shut and let you live your life the way you want to. Is that what you want? For me to be distant and mind my own business?"

"Yes, daddy," She spat, surprised by his words to her. "That is what I want. And I'd like you to start with this party. I'm not going." She yanked her arm away from his grasp and swung the door all the way open, walking out.

"Fine," He called after her. "You call and tell Bulma-San yourself. I'm minding my own business now."

"Fine!" She yelled, slamming the door.

#######

Trunks played the message Pan left on the answering machine again, making sure he'd heard her right. His hands were clenched to his sides as he listening, his breath coming out slowly, angrily. She couldn't be doing this to them. This wasn't acceptable. He'd expected it, yet, somehow, it made him angry to hear the words himself.

"Hello Vegita, Bulma, and Trunks-San, this is Pan. I was just calling to let you know that I won't be able to make it to Bra's homecoming party tonight. Tell Bra I'm really sorry, will you? And tell her that, if she's interested, we could get together sometime later. Just the two of us," Her voice sounded slightly mocking here, like she thought the idea was laughable. She probably did, but Trunks didn't.

And just when had he become Trunks-_San_? He wished he'd known about it, it would have made him happier. Especially since she used the formal address on his name but not on his parents' names. They were older than he was and it just sounded kind of funny to his ears. The message continued with,

"Once again, I'm really sorry I won't be able to come," Sure you are, Trunks thought, gritting his teeth. "Hope you understand. Bye!"

He erased the message, shaking his head. Oh, he understood all right. But what Pan didn't understand was that she wasn't backing out of this. He wouldn't let her. For some reason it was important to his sister that she be there and Trunks had promised Bra that Pan would be there.

He may have been considered a lot of things in his life, especially by Pan, but he_ was not_ a dirty liar. He didn't break promises he made to his sister, of all people. He loved his sister and he was going to keep her happy.

She hadn't talked about much of anything since she got home. She'd only told him a little bit about New York and the people she had met. Barely mentioned her life, all four years worth of it, and didn't seem to have the energy to do anything but get out of bed. But she was excited about this, about Pan, and he wasn't going to question it. If Bra wanted Pan, the princess would get Pan. And she had made it clear that she wanted Pan.

It was his _job_ to deliver. Pan was going to have to set aside any differences she had for Trunks, at least for this one night, and come over to Capsule. Even if he had to drag her by the hair, kicking and screaming. He would see to it that she got there. Her refusal was unacceptable, that was all there was to it.

_To be continued..._

Sidenote to **gracyneekap**: Vegita (or Vegeta) can be spelled either way. They do that in Dragonball, like Krillen, Krillin; Goku, Gokou, etc. Because of the American translations, the names are different/not deicided upon (like: Bura, Bulla, and Bra are all the same person).

I won't usually do authors notes, but since I just made an exception: thank the rest of you for you enthusiastic interest in my work. I love when you review. It makes my day.


	4. Senseless

Rainwater  
Chapter 3: Senseless   
Rating: R for sexual situations and suggestions, adult topics and language.  
_WitchyPrincess_

_Senseless_

_My world moved so fast today, my past seemed a million years away. Everything flashed before me in a rush - making me hold my breath; life squeezed so tight I couldn't breathe. _

_Sometimes I feel like things aren't really real. Like I'm drifting, but I don't really exist. It's amazing, the way I float away. The way I lose myself to it all. I try to stop it but I can't. Because I'm trying so hard - too hard - to be what everyone else wants me to. And every time I try to be what someone else thinks of me, I'm not able to achieve. It kills me to admit it, even to myself._

_I look around me, at my friends, at my family, and wonder where my spark has gone. Where my fire went. Why am I just wandering, drifting from one spot to another the way I am? Crying for help, searching everywhere but inside of me, looking for something I'll never be able to find?_

_Deep inside me I know what I'm looking for. I know where to find it; I've got to dig within me. I've got to find it in myself. And I've made up my mind: I'm not going to drift anymore, I'm not going to be lost; I'm going to define my own destiny. _

_I'm going to, and she's going to help me do it._

_—Bra Briefs  
_#######

Bra realized, too late, that she was biting the tips of her fingernails. Her mother was giving her a hard frown from across the table and she knew that, if the woman could, she'd reach across and knock some sense into her. But it didn't matter, she couldn't reach. Bra pulled her manicured fingernail away from her lips anyway, honestly just as annoyed with herself for having slipped.

The table was long, square mahogany wood. It was covered by a white-satin cloth, a red laced cotton tablecloth on top of the satin one to give it decorative edge. There were four red candles lined up, one in front of the other on each end of the table, and silverware and fine china set out for fifteen places. For Bulma, this was a small, intimate gathering - just the way Bra had requested it. Nothing big.

There was no one at the table now though, only Bulma and Bra. Vegita didn't want to come down until the food was out in front of him and Trunks had run off somewhere without telling anyone what he was doing. That was why Bulma was so uptight. Her own son would be late for the party, how would that look in front of everyone? She knew she needed to keep a closer watch on that boy.

He was becoming more and more of a handful lately. Going in to work at any hour of the day, coming home when he wanted, not coming home at all. True, he was very grown and very old to still be living under her roof. And true, since the company was now legally his, he was legally living under his own roof; but as long as she was his mother he would respect her. And that meant telling her that he was alright sometimes. That meant calling, if only just to ask how his mother was doing.

Trunks knew her children were her whole world. And Bra had been away for so long that it seemed like he was all she had. Why did he insist on worrying her?

What had she done so horribly wrong?

Her children didn't smile anymore. They didn't laugh and their eyes didn't light up. What they did, when they turned their lips up into what was supposed to be a joyful expression, was a sorry excuse for something that came close to a sneer. But it definitely wasn't a smile. It had taken her four years just to convince her daughter that things were going to better for her somehow, four years to get the young girl home.

But what had she done to run her off? And what could Bulma do to keep Bra here this time? She needed to know, and she needed to know quickly because whatever was killing Bra, it was taking Trunks with her. There was nothing more frightening than watching your own flesh and blood fall apart before your very eyes, knowing there's nothing to be done. That even if you knew what was wrong, you probably couldn't fix the wound, mend the heart, make the smile feel real. Who do you blame when you run out of pointing fingers?

The doorbell rung and Bulma watched with a curious eye as her daughter nearly jumped out of her skin from fright. It only made Bulma all the more concerned and curious to see her daughter react like that. Bra knew they were expecting company and she should have been expecting the doorbell to ring. What would make her react as though she were in a secluded area somewhere and she never, ever heard the sound?

"I'll get it." The elder woman replied, giving her daughter a calculating gaze as she got up. She ran her fingers through her short blue hair, brushing strands into their place. Then straightened her form-fitting red dress as she walked down the hallway toward the front door.

Bra sighed, leaning back into the wooden chair. It made a squeak as she positioned herself, resting her head on the table for a moment as she remembered how to breathe. What was the matter with her?

All she kept thinking about was how many things could go wrong. What if Pan didn't show? She knew she would, her brother had told her so, had promised he'd make sure she was there...But what if she didn't? This was crazy, she knew Pan would. And if she didn't Bra would simply have to go find the girl and talk to her some other time.

But what if Pan didn't like Bra? She had never been particularly nice to the quarter-saiyan, she hadn't gone out of her way to please her or be great friends with her. But then, she hadn't done anything to displease...much. She winded at the thought before brushing it off as inconsequential. So they hadn't been the best of friends, big deal. Pan had spent all her time chasing snakes, dragon balls, and Trunks. Bra simply couldn't keep up with her.

Bra was a changed person now and Pan would see that. Pan would show. Bra tried to soothe her nerves, while trying to get her mind off of what she was really thinking. What if _he_ didn't show?

It was completely possible that he would show. Trunks had said Goten was going through some tough times now, though he wouldn't say what they were. Not to mention, Goten and Trunks weren't exactly the best of friends anymore. Her brother had told her that also. Now what if Goten didn't show up to see her at all? Would she be bothered by that? Would it hurt that he ignored her that way?

No, what she really wanted to know was...what if he did show up? Would she be bothered then? Would he stop her heartbeat still? Who was she kidding, he was already stopping her heartbeat and he hadn't walked into the room - might not even walk into it at all. She had to get a grip. Goten was not the beginning or the end of the world. She could live without him. She had lived without him. And whether he showed or didn't show wouldn't make a difference.

She had settled on that thought when her mother walked back into the room with someone right on her heels. Of course it was Goten. And he was alone. Bra closed her eyes for a long second, not allowing herself to feel the rush of emotions that washed over her body, flooding her mind and drowning her senses.

It doesn't make a difference. She chanted in her head as she rose from her chair, regal grace behind her every action. It doesn't make a difference anymore.

It might not have if his hair hadn't been trimmed, if his smile hadn't curved his lips just the right way. Maybe if he hadn't been wearing all black, from the sexy turtle neck, down to the black dress pants and shoes. If he wasn't wearing sunglasses in November, at seven at night, making him look dangerous and sexy. Maybe if he didn't smell like heaven and forbidden fruit all rolled into one or if her stomach had not shot down to her knees within a matter of seconds, it wouldn't have mattered. But everything happened fast and none of it could be avoided or ignored. And it most certainly all did happen. She was still in love with him.

She shouldn't have come home. But she had. She hadn't had a choice in the matter, her parents had made sure of that. Dende, she needed Pan, and quickly.

#######

She was rummaging through her cabinets, putting her clean dishes away, when her buzzer sounded. She thought it might be her mother, asking her to change her mind, asking her to apologize to her father, and so she didn't answer. The woman knew the code, she had a key, she could find her own way up to her apartment door if she wanted to. Besides, she didn't need this. Maybe her mother would get the point and leave her alone.

Of course, it could be her uncle, needing to spend some quality time with her. He hadn't been feeling too well lately, with everything going on, and he'd been talking to her a lot about it. But he was going to Capsule, he'd told her. He wanted to 'clear his head'. And he wanted to see Bra again, he hadn't talked to her for a long time. And Bra had been like another niece to him, she knew he missed her. So, it wasn't Goten, which meant it had to be her mother. Or...she thought, placing a pot in the cabinet, it was someone else...

It was as she had the thought that she looked up, out of her balcony window, to see a figure outlined in the night light. She frowned, not believing what she was seeing. Not truly ready to accept what was before her eyes - _who_ was before her eyes. It couldn't be him. She thought, shaking her head and walking over to the balcony. She was imagining things.

She walked right up to it and pushed it open slightly, sticking her head out with a frown. Sure enough, it was him. The exact him she'd promised herself four years ago that she'd never see again, if she could help it. And for the most part, she'd kept her promise to herself.

He was dressed in a baby blue collared shirt with three buttons at the top, two of them undone so that the white of the shirt he was wearing under it could be seen. His pants were black khakis that were creased down the center, and his shoes were black dress shoes that somehow looked casual on his feet. The only thing that seemed out of place at all was the fact that he wasn't wearing a blazer. That and the nasty scowl that pressed on his face as he stood there, arms crossed, lavender hair being blown in the wind. She sucked in a breath, looking at him for the first time in years and feeling butterflies, that she thought were long dead, zoom around her stomach.

She pulled her head back quickly, trying to shut her balcony door, but his hand moved with the speed of lightning, catching the door and pushing it open. He stepped in her apartment, pushing her aside as if he owned it and she was the guest, closing the balcony door behind him. She frowned, rolled her eyes and walked back toward the door without a word. She opened it and motioned for him to leave, not bothering to open her mouth. He didn't move.

"Look, I left a message." She stated tersely, trying to keep her calm. He quirked an eyebrow, nodding at her.

"I heard it." His eyes scanned her body, from the tip of her toes to the top of her head. She was wearing a pair of gray sweat pants and a white camisole that clung to her skin. Her hair was tied into a very messy bun, strands of black falling in various places. The only sign that she might have been anywhere that day was the silver watch she had clasped to her right wrist. But it could be as casual as it was formal, so he disregarded it and said, "You don't look busy to me."

"I never said I'd be busy, Trunks-San." He frowned at the way the 'San' rolled smoothly off her lips, barely a pause between his name and the formal word of respect, as if it had always been there. She was older now, and her calling him anything 'San' just made him feel ancient but he didn't bother to tell her that, he'd spent too long getting her to say it to tell her not to now.

"If you weren't going to be busy then why did you say you weren't coming to the party, Pan-Chan?"

She had intended to be civil with him. To tell him quickly that she wouldn't change her mind and then show him to the door, politely. Like pulling off a band-aid, swiftly so that it would be over with without much pain. But he had just struck a nerve she couldn't ignore. How dare he call her that, like they were good friends or like she was four years old?

"You know perfectly well why I'd skip that party Trunks-San and I'm not going to change my mind because you're standing here trying to intimidate me." She told him, voice cold and detached, crossing her arms to let him know she was serious.

"I _don't_ know why." He feigned innocence, which only served to piss her off more. "Care to tell me?"

"I-don't-like-you." She spoke the words slowly, enunciating every syllable to make sure he got the point.

"You hardly know me." He brushed her words off. "You haven't seen me in two...maybe three years, Pan. Haven't had a conversation with me in four." She snorted.

"Still _that_ was too soon."

"There's no need to get rude-" He started, his temper rising again. He was already furious with her, the last thing she needed to do was get him more upset by insulting him. But she did him one better, she cut him off.

"There's plenty of need to." She informed him before he could continue talking. "And I think we've said all we need to say to each other. _Ever_. So, excuse me Mr. Briefs," She placed a hand on his back, turning him towards the door, and gave him a solid push in that direction. "But you should leave now." Her tone was formal and distant, not at all the Pan he used to talk with, the Pan he went into outer space with. This was some other girl completely. Someone who truly hated him.

He couldn't say he'd expected something different, but actually encountering it was something all together new to him. He had never been treated so causally, so small. He had never had a woman glare at him, so coldly and angrily, like she did. He'd never had chills slide all the way down his back by a simple frown from someone else. He was a business man, he was used to people hating him. This shouldn't be affecting him the way it was. He hated her, he reminded himself. He didn't care what she thought of him. He didn't care how much she disliked him.

So why was there guilt bubbling at the pit of his stomach? Why did he feel the need to apologize? Why did he want her to stop looking so angrily at him, wishing that she would adore him the way she used to? He hated that too. He couldn't stand her blind adoration of him, so he certainly shouldn't be wishing for it now. Except that he needed her to come to this party. She had to.

He brushed her hand off his shoulder and frowned at her, giving her a firm, settling look. "We have plenty more to say. Starting with what you're wearing to my sister's party." He told her, crossing his arms in a stubborn fashion.

"I'm not going!" She nearly shouted, all patience lost. "And how dare you come in here and assume that you could make me? I'd sooner take you outside and give you the beating I should have given you years ago. You no good, low-life, scum sucking-"

He moved so fast she barely saw him coming. His arms encircled her waist and he flipped her over his shoulder, her feet flailing as she realized what was happening.

"Put me down asshole." She told him evenly, the threat clear in her voice. To her annoyance, he chuckled.

"You can beat me up after the party, Pan." He told her, heading down the hallway. "Which one of these doors is your room?" He shifted her weight slightly on his shoulder, almost losing his balance from the strength of her resistance.

"You're never setting foot in my bedroom, Trunks."

"We're even now." He informed, smiling secretly to himself.

"What?" She squirmed, beating her fists into his back. "Oh, never mind; I mean it, put me down!"

"You've hated me for four years for telling you that same thing. Now we're even. And I will put you down, the second you tell me which door." There were four doors, three of them next to each other with a little wall space in between each one, the other on the opposite side of the hall.

"Figure it out on your own." She told him, slamming her elbow into the very bottom of his back. He hunched over, not loosening his grip on her waist, gritting his teeth in annoyance.

"Stop fighting me, would you?"

"I'll yell rape so loudly the whole building will be knocking on my door if you don't fucking put me down!" She screamed, beating into the sides of his stomach as she talked.

"Go ahead." He shrugged, moving her body up and then back down with the flow of his shoulders.

"Dammit!" She was screeching now, trying to fight her way away from him. His body rocked with the force she was using.

"Don't make me go Super. But make no mistake, I will Pan."

"Why?" She cried, falling limp against his body. "Why do you want me going to this stupid party anyways?"

"Because, your being there seems to mean a lot to Bra. And Bra means a lot to me." He told her, picking a door and pushing it open. Wrong one, it was guest room. He could tell because everything was nice, neat, and covered with dust.

"Don't have much company?" He commented, raising an eyebrow as he shut the door.

"Oh no, I do. I just never need a spare bed." There was a slight hint of mischief in her voice, a lingering insinuation as she responded. He didn't like the tone or what it suggested.

"Sounds a little slutty, Pan." He told her with a frown, pushing open the next door. It was the bathroom.

"Sounds like it's none of your business, Trunks-San." She elbowed him again. He groaned this time, having relaxed his guard since she calmed down. Before either of them said anything else he had found the right room and was throwing her onto her bed.

She made a loud sigh of protest, crossing her arms and glaring at him. "I'd like to see how you're going to make me go to this thing." She replied defiantly. He countered her sigh with one of his own before pulling the only door in her room open and smiling dangerously.

"What do we have in here? Let's see, shall we?" He turned his head to her, eyebrows lifting in question as though he was giving her an option. He never waited for her to respond though, simply turned back and began to rummage.

"What the hell are you doing?" She spat angrily, pure venom in her voice.

"Finding some appropriate attire. You're going to this party and you're going to look like you want to be there - do I make myself clear?"

"My father doesn't even talk to me like that." She swallowed her immediate response to chuck something at his head as she told him this, eyes narrowing to little slits as she studied the back of his head.

"I'm not your father Pan, and I won't hesitate to kick your ass." He was using a clipped tone as he told her this, still flipping through the outfits hanging in her closet. "Don't you even own a dress?"

She smiled at the frustration she heard in his voice. "What if I don't?" she challenged, almost forgetting the threat he'd just made. Almost.

"Then you'll own plenty in a few minutes. Do you really want me to call a department store and get them over here?"

"I wouldn't tell you my size." She wrinkled her brow at the thought. He turned around slowly, smirk in place as his eyes scanned her. There was a sensuous, predatory feel to the look on his face, eyes sweeping over her as if he were hungry and she was the main course. She shivered despite herself.

"You wouldn't have to." He finally informed, eyes glittering as he turned back around.

She crossed her arms more protectively over her chest. "Like you could tell by looking." There was a challenge there.

"It doesn't matter if I could or couldn't." He shrugged as she lifted an eyebrow at him, trying to understand. "I just shifted through your entire closet, sizes are written on clothes you know."

She was curious, she had to know. "Then what size am I?" She leaned over a little, watching to see if he pulled out a tag to check. He didn't.

"Four in dresses." He turned around again, giving her that look, this time with slightly more thought. "Five or six in pants...at least a five." His eyes dared her to tell him he was wrong. She couldn't.

She felt naked and uncomfortable. He'd never once looked at a tag...

"Get out of my room." She spoke suddenly, defensively as if he'd just walked in on her in the shower. He chuckled, crossing his own arms and turning to face her directly.

"Or what?"

"I'll show you exactly why you could never kick my ass." She threatened, her gaze penetratingly boring into him. He felt slightly nervous with the way she seemed to hate him so easily.

"Not until you're dressed and ready for this party."

"I wouldn't get dressed in front of you if you paid me, you pervert. And I'm not going-"

"You're going or I'm not leaving your apartment." Her face blanched.

"What did you say?" She questioned slowly, imagining the possibility of having to continue being annoyed by him.

"And, I'll make sure you see me every day. Every day, Pan."

"I want your feet moving out of my room and your ass out of my apartment. I mean it, Trunks!" In her anger she forgot the 'San'. His lips twisted into a satisfied smirk.

"No thanks."

She almost screamed, but fought the urge, shooting up abruptly. Her hands were around his neck so fast he didn't have time to prepare himself. The force of her weight as she charged into him knocked him over completely.

She landed on top of him, legs on either side of his waist. Her hands tightened dangerously as her eyes flashed fury. She dug her hands deeper, pressing firmly against his skin, drawing her fingers closer together in blind rage.

"I-hope-you-die." She whispered, her voice filled with malice. She tightened her hands some more, rocking her body with each word she spoke, not realizing, until too late, that his hands had moved around her waist.

He grabbed her with urgency, genuinely afraid that she would try and kill him. His face had turned red and his air supply was completely cut off. As quickly as possible, he pushed, using all of his strength, against her stomach, trying to throw her off balance. It worked, she fell over with a shriek, pulling him with her, her hands still firmly around his neck.

It was him landing completely on her that did it. It shocked her so thoroughly her hands fell from his neck as she let out a little groan of outrage. She tried to push him up but it was like heaving a dead body, he wouldn't budge and she was suffocating under him as he frantically tried to catch his breath.

"Trunks," She whimpered, pushing her hands against his shoulders in a desperate motion. "Please,"

If it hadn't been for his current situation he might have noticed how sexy her little plea had been. Not only had she said his name without the attachment, but she followed it with 'please'. All the while she was whimpering, he was on top of her, and they were both panting for breath. Had he not been so involved in trying to save his life, he would have noticed how much this entire situation could have turned him on.

But as it was, he had nearly suffocated to death and he found nothing alluring about that fact. Or her damned temper.

"Get off me!" Her voice came out choked and fading, barely audible. She felt like crying, she couldn't breathe. She was going to die. He would kill her because she'd tried to kill him. His arm was directly on her neck, cutting off her circulation. His body weight pressed right on her stomach and he was heaving in and out. She doubted, even if he'd wanted to, that he could get up. They might both die and it'd be all her fault.

"Please," she tried to ask again through broken words - she could hardly get any air to speak. "I'll...do...anything."

He finally realized that she was choking and he'd caught enough air to move when he heard the words. He slowly lifted one of his arms, starting to get up, danger glinting in his eyes.

"Remember you...remember you said that." He told her through pants for air as he pushed his body off of hers. "Oh, and don't...don't ever...try to...to kill me...again." He finally managed through his coughing fit.

"I'm not making promises." She grabbed her neck, immediately getting up and doubling over to catch her breath. "Sick bastard," she mumbled through thick heaves of air. He glared at her.

"You're the one that tried to kill me." He reminded.

"So, I guess you want me to go to this stupid party as the 'anything' I said I'd do, huh?" She asked after a moment of silence that she used to catch her breath. He tilted his head, giving her the smile he'd picked up from Bulma when she had a plan.

"Is that what you think I'd pick? Out of anything?" He was nearly laughing. "After you almost killed the both of us? Pan, Pan, Pan..." He was shaking his head and giving her a smile that scared her senseless. What the hell had just happened here?

_To be continued..._


	5. Special

Rainwater  
Chapter 4: Special   
Rating: R for sexual situations and suggestions, adult topics and language.  
_WitchyPrincess_

_Special_

_When you've lived your whole life hearing fairy tales about Snow White and Cinderella, you tend to idolize the idea. Even though, once you pass those first few precious years of childhood and you understand that such fantasies aren't real, you can't put the thought out of your head. The dreams, seductive lies that sweep you into the wonderful web they weave, won't let you be free. The thoughts keep you imprisoned and forever bound where you can't help but want what you've been told. They way you were told it._

_Why the hell don't they tell you when you're four that Prince Charming doesn't exist? That _you'll _never be as fair as Cinderella? And that when you put that glass slipper on your feet the only thing that will change is your comfort level?_

_When you think you're beautiful - when you believe certain things are supposed to happen certain ways - dangerous things happen. When you let your guard down and you expect, without really thinking about it, that things will be different, you set yourself up for disappointment. _

_Who decides which of us is considered ugly and which of us isn't? Who makes up their minds about certain people's lives, whether they'll be easy or hard? And where can I go to cash my life in for a new one? I need to know. I always expected Happily Ever After was just around the corner. I never thought none of it would pertain to me. _

_Every little girl imagines she's special. I just hated it so much when he pointed out that I wasn't, I had never suspected that I wouldn't be. I hated it so badly I could never forgive him for it. I could never forget. And every time he opened his mouth to dismantle my dreams, from there after, I etched a notch inside my mental emotional pole and held on to the memory. I wanted revenge so badly it blinded me._

_He had to feel my shame. He had to eat his words. I was special - I had to be._

_—Pan Son  
_#######

It wasn't so much that Pan actually wanted to go to this party as it was that she wanted to prove Trunks wrong. He must have known what he was doing when he said it, because after it had come out of his mouth her eyes lit like a bon fire and she jumped into action. She was so livid she didn't even notice how pleased with himself he looked. He was resisting the urge to give himself a self-satisfied pat on the back, but she was blinded by her anger as she puffed out her chest and shoved him out of her room.

"Don't you go anywhere." She yelled at him through the door. "Give me thirty minutes and you'll be eating the shoe that you just lodged in your throat." He chuckled and sat down on the couch.

He wouldn't take it back though. He actually did doubt that if she happened to, by some odd twist of fate, own a dress, that she knew how to wear it. He couldn't imagine her wearing one and if she was going to wear it just because he'd insulted her femininity then he should have thought of that years ago. This was bound to be great fun.

He didn't realize, and there was no one there watching to tell him, that he was wearing the first real smile he'd worn in years. And this girl, who moments before was trying to strangle him to death, was the reason for it.

#######

Where were they? Bra dug her fingernails into her dress as she withheld the sigh she wanted to let past her throat. Neither Trunks nor Pan were here. And Bra found, surprisingly, that she wasn't comfortable around anyone else.

The table was nearly full. Bulma was sitting at the far end of it, her hands resting patiently in her lap. There was a stern, determined look set on her face, her lips pressed so tightly together they nearly disappeared. To the left of her was Vegita, an angry expression ravishing his face, his eyebrows so close they were nearly one big uni-brow. And to Bulma's right was her first problem: an empty mahogany seat. The white napkin still folded in the shape of a swan resting on the plate that hadn't been touched.

And next to Vegita, to his left, was the other problem. The other empty seat. The one with Pan's invitation on the plate. Next to the empty chair, Gohan sat with his hands rigidly clasped together, his jaws clenched, eyes staring straight ahead. His wife, to his left, was in much the same state. Her eyes were glossed over and she was staring down at the porcelain with much more interest then was necessary.

Her mother-in-law however, to Videl's left, looked completely un-bothered by the situation. Her only annoyance was the man to her left who wouldn't stop yapping. Yamcha, and across from him was Juuhanchigou.

Her expression was nearly blank, hard to read. But Bra's guess was that she looked slightly amused. To her left was her husband, Krillin, who looked puzzled and semi-embarrassed because of the uncomfortable environment. Then came Marron, who was completely absent from everything surrounding her. Her arm was resting on the table, head propped on her elbow, a bored expression on her face. She looked as if she hoped someone would throw a piece of glass across the table or shout at the top of their lungs. Every now and then she would glance at ChiChi to see if the woman was going to smack Yamcha, but nothing serious ever occurred.

Staring at the girl with complete disregard to his surroundings, was none other than Ubuu. Sitting to Marron's left, he had twisted in his seat so that he could have a better view, his eyes never leaving her even though Goten - on his lift - was trying to engage him in friendly conversation. Past Goten was Trunks' empty chair.

Finally Bra, who was at the other end of the table, across from her mother, couldn't hold the sigh in any longer. It was released in one long, disdainful sound that seemed to echo the feelings of everyone else at the table. Trunks was going to get it for this, Bra knew it by the expression on her mother's face. Bulma would never forgive him for the embarrassment. Dinner should have started five minutes ago.

Bra looked over to Videl, flashing a charming grin as the woman looked up, and trying not to let the nervousness show on her face. She knew, even if she did appear nervous, that Videl wouldn't get the feeling. No one outside her family ever had - with the possible exception of Goten - but Vegita had been staring at her all through dinner and she didn't want him to see the nerve lines, even if Videl couldn't.

"Do you have any idea when Pan is coming?" She asked, the second time tonight since Videl got there, pretending like she hadn't understood the first time when Videl said she doubted Pan would come.

"No, Bra, I don't have an idea." Videl answered, almost regretfully as she shook her head. "I'm sorry this is holding everyone up. But, like I said, Pan might not be able to make it. I'm not sure if she has to work, but she seemed quite panicked when she realized what date the party was set for." She conveniently left out the fact that it was actually Gohan having accepted for Pan that made the young girl upset, that Pan had said she wasn't coming at all even, not needing to involve the Briefs in any of that. It was none of their affair what went on in the Son household.

"Well, wouldn't she have called to-" Bulma started, completely unnerved, but she caught the look that crossed her daughter's face first. A sort of murderous, vengeful look that warned Bulma not to upset anyone. She let the sentence trail off and die just as the sound of a door opening bounced through the room.

Everyone started to stand up but stopped mid-stride, realizing that it must be Trunks because the doorbell hadn't been rung. Bulma's face plunged from upset to pure malevolence in one second flat. She was going to let him have it. But what happened next made all the words get caught in her throat, stumbling and bumping into each other as she tried not to choke.

A woman walked into the room - her stride confident, her face flushed, a smile crushed to her lips - as if she'd done it a hundred times. She was lovely in a very indelicate way. Her face was gentle, yet rough. Her eyes were a warm, dark-chocolate brown, yet hauntingly cold somewhere inside. She seemed to be a pile of contradictions.

Her hair was down, landing past her shoulders in a river of wavy curls that seemed unruly and thick yet, fashionably full. She was wearing a pale green dress, the shade of apples right before they ripened, that stopped slightly past her knees. It was tight in all the right places, yet it wasn't tight at all. The sleeves were off the shoulder and drooping in a bell shaped form, the neckline scooped low enough to flatter but not too low as to insult. She was wearing a silver necklace but, Bulma noticed, no other jewelry.

It was impossible to describe her in a word because beautiful wasn't suiting. She wasn't fabulously gorgeous but...somehow...she was breathtaking all the same. Maybe it was the way her hips curved, airing confidence and sophistication as she walked. Or maybe it was the fact that Bulma felt like she knew her but couldn't place why. It could simply be that feeling of familiarity rushing over her that made her think this girl was something special. Either way, her voice was too choked, her mind too confused, to force out the angry words that had been spewing and bubbling beneath the surface of her cool smile since the moment the first guest arrived and her son was not present.

She was the last one to take her seat, but the first to notice that everyone's mouth was hanging open, blatantly staring at the girl. Except Vegita, who was the first to speak.

"Both you brats are late so there better be a good excuse." It wasn't until he had said the words that Bulma realized her son was behind this girl, a bemused expression on his face as he drunk in everyone's reactions to his company. Because of that shock Bulma didn't berate her husband for referring to one of the guests as 'brat'.

"Trunks, if you were going to invite someone you should have told me," She automatically swept into damage control mode. "I would have set a place for her. I'm sorry dear, If I had known-"

"Bulma," Videl was laughing nervously, looking up at the young girl as she spoke her words. "It's just Pan. Don't you recognize her? Has it really been that long?"

Bra was the first to reply, an excited sigh spilling from her lips as she stood up, a small smile fitting to her face. "Pan," She spoke warmly, her eyes glittering with anticipation. "I'm glad you could make it."

Pan tilted her head, her own eyes taking in Bra's curious response. The demi-saiyan seemed overly happy to see her and Pan could only imagine why. They hadn't been buddy-buddy before Bra left so what would spark this sudden interest? The girl was moving closer to Pan, her arms spread out in welcome.

Pan studied her closely, like a predator examining it's prey. She took in everything about the girl from her long, full blue hair to her high-heeled red shoes. She was wearing a red, sleeveless evening dress. The material clung closely to her skin, though not nauseatingly so. It went past her knees, dripping like a waterfall as it wrapped into a V at the side of her left leg.

Her hair was up, held back by a silver headband, accented with red jewels. Still, strands of the blue escaped and fell down her shoulders, teasingly touching her neck with soft caresses. The dark red lipstick and eyeshadow made her look like some kind of fallen goddess, completely out of place on this earth. Once again, all the old feelings of resentment and jealously rose up in the pit of Pan's stomach. Feelings she had to force away before she finally reached her arms out, trying not to let the puzzlement show on her face, and accepted the girl's embrace.

"I wouldn't have missed your homecoming party." Pan spoke as she pulled away, unnaturally sweet as she said it, finally noticing that Vegita was glaring at her. "I'm sorry we're late, Vegita-San." She bowed her head in humble apology, trying not to snigger at his 'evil' look. "Trunks-San wanted to make sure I got here dressed properly and...as you can imagine, he had a time of getting me to put clothes _on_." She purposefully made it sound bad, hoping her father's blood would boil and he'd kill Trunks so she wouldn't have to.

Her eyes eased towards his direction, trying to sneak a peak at his expression. He looked horrified, but, she noticed with some dismay, it was because his mother was giving him a very nasty glare, not because of what she'd said.

"Go and sit down Pan," Bra urged, pointing to the empty chair between Vegita and Gohan. Pan sighed, nodding her head as she went towards the chair. "The quicker we get through dinner the quicker you can get out of that dress."

Now Pan had never imagined Bra would be excited about getting her out of anything that showed off more than her training gi did, but she didn't argue the fact or question it. The girl had a point.

"Hi Pan," Marron mumbled, half unenthusiastically as Pan went to take her seat, as if the blonde had just noticed Pan was in the room.

"Hi Marron," She responded with just as much excitement. "Hi mom, dad." They barely even looked at her as she sat down. She noted their uninterested hello's with annoyance.

This was going to be fun. Her parents wouldn't talk to her and they were the ones she was sitting next to. Vegita would do nothing but eat and be mad at her for being late. Goten certainly wasn't going to be cheerful this evening, he was going through enough as it was. And Ubuu was too busy being ignored by Marron, who was off in her own world. Only Bra would be amusing and she was acting so strangely Pan didn't know what had gotten into her. Yamcha wouldn't shut up, Trunks-San was a jackass, and Bulma, just like her husband, was seething because they were so late. Krillin and Juu weren't much for conversation so that pretty much took care of everyone who might amuse Pan. And, just when she was sure it would be unbearable, ChiChi leaned across the table and said, with as much pride as Pan had ever heard her use,

"You look beautiful, Pan, just beautiful. Very adult, I can hardly believe it's you. Bulma, don't even worry about the mishap," For she had noticed that Bulma looked slightly sheepish every time someone talked to Pan. "_I_ didn't even recognize her."

And that settled everything; it was decided that Pan looked lovely, Bulma had no reason to be embarrassed or annoyed, the meal could start because everyone was there (Trunks had finally sat down), and no one would stare in awkward silence any longer. Everyone appeared cool, calm, and relaxed. But, as time has consistently shown, looks could be deceiving.

#######

She swallowed hard, feeling that familiar flutter of her heart and churning of her stomach that made words hard to come by, reality hard to face. Everything caught somewhere in her chest, restricting her breath. She couldn't form a coherent thought. Distantly she heard Marron ask Pan where she'd gotten her dress but past that all dialogue was lost to her.

She was sitting on the love seat in the living room. The room was small and cozy, the fireplace was lit even though it wasn't particularly cold outside. There were pictures littered all over the mantle of Bra and Trunks as little children - usually not together since Trunks had been thirteen when Bra was born - and of Trunks and Bra's grandparents.

There was a recliner at the far side of the room that Ubuu was sitting on. It was angled to face the long matching leather brown sofa that Marron and Pan were occupying with Trunks. Ubuu was blatantly staring at Marron, still. Bra had a slight feeling that, if Trunks hadn't beaten him to the seat, Ubuu would have sat right beside Pan and leaned across her to ogle Marron from up close. But, curiously, Trunks hadn't even hesitated to take the seat right next to Pan. He even seemed a little...anxious. And it appeared as if he found some form of amusement from being right where he was. Though, odd as it was, Pan looked throughly annoyed and kept shifting closer to Marron, whom she had never been too fond of - that being an understatement.

However, none of this was the reason Bra couldn't concentrate long enough to string two sensible thoughts together. No, It was Goten's - who was sitting right next to her, arm stretched across the entire back end of the love seat - fault. He was so close she could almost feel his skin on hers, burning through her entire body. She was nearly shaking but had to remind herself that even if they did bump she would feel his sweater, not his skin.

He was asking her something and she tried hard to hear him, but it was so distracting because she had to stare at his lips to make out the words. And staring at his lips made things really hard to concentrate on. She cleared her throat nervously, swallowed hard, shook her head, and blinked all in the span of a few seconds. He paused, tilting his head and letting that sexy smile slide onto his lips, scratching the back of his head. She heard him clearly when he asked,

"Bra, are you all right?" rather slowly because he wasn't sure if she was 'all right' or not. She smiled slightly, nodding her head a little childishly before responding audibly.

"I'm fine." She nodded again before she caught herself and had to fight the urge to roll her eyes into the back of her head for being so simple and easily shaken. Her manicured fingers were pinching the side of her red dress as she tried to keep her calm reserve, he noticed.

"Are you sure?" He asked, watching her hands as he questioned her.

"Very. I'm just anxious to talk to Pan, is all. You'll forgive me if I've been a little scatterbrained - but that shouldn't be a surprise, it is me we're talking about." She added the phony smile that always came along with a line like that but he didn't chuckle and nod along with her 'joke'. He frowned instead. She forgot, it had always annoyed him when she put herself down.

"You're not simpleminded, Bra. Did you forget who you're talking to here? You can't fool me. And you're going to have to suffer through my boring conversation before you can get to my niece, so humor me, will you?"

She bit her lip, glad it was her bottom lip and not her fingernail. Then he'd know she was bothered, he might not have seen her for four years but Goten didn't tend to forget things about people. He could be simple at times, like his father, but he was highly perceptive; he probably got that from his father too. And he knew she always bit her nails when she was uncomfortable.

"You're not boring me." She responded politely, trying hard not to let her eyes drift back to the couch, the one Pan was sitting on, with a pleading expression. It was actually quite the opposite but she couldn't tell him that or she'd have to explain her uneasiness.

"I asked you where you'd been. No one's ever told me where you had planned to go. Just that you were going to live in the States and you didn't want to disclose where." He continued after a slight pause in which she made no attempt to reply. Briefly he noted that her eyes were edging away from him, but weren't quite gone. That didn't sway him to let her get away though. "Everyone talked as if you'd only be gone for a few months. If I had known that the party Bulma threw before you left wasn't just another excuse for her to have people over, that it was actually a going away party for you, I would have spent much more time by your side. Why didn't you tell me how long you'd be gone, Bra? Why didn't you tell me where you were going? I would have come to visit."

Exactly, she thought but didn't say. Instead, she said, "Because I needed the time alone. I needed to discover some things on my own and I didn't want my friends to interfere. I only wanted my family to visit and seldom at that, it was nothing personal Goten, I didn't even know how long I'd be gone." And that was the biggest lie she'd ever told. It _was _a personal attack against him. It had all been because of him - and it hadn't even helped. Not one damn bit. Her blood was still running cold in her skin. Her stomach was in knots, her mind was cluttered, her hands were clammy, and her heart was jumping.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. It had changed. When she left it hadn't been because she loved him but because it hurt to love him. Now she loved him but...the hurt was gone. Or was it just because Paris wasn't here tonight and all his attention was centered on her? It wasn't until she had that thought that she realized he was staring at her as if she'd said those things out loud - or at least as if she'd just slapped him across the face.

"What's wrong?" She questioned, slightly panicked for she wondered if she _had _said them out loud.

"Nothing." There was quiet anger in his tone as he stood from the chair. "I just thought I was considered family." He shook his head and she didn't even try to stop him as he walked away, finally feeling a tinge of that pain that had caused her to flee in the first place. No, not flee. The Princess of Saiyans didn't flee from anything. She had simply found a way to beat him without killing herself in return, that was all...Or at least she'd tried to. It hadn't worked. Why was she still in love with him? And what the hell was she going to do about it?

Her attention drifted back to Pan as she watched her brother lean over and whisper something in the young girl's ear. Pan looked incredibly annoyed as she answered back, crossing her arms and glaring at Trunks. And she looked even more relieved when Goten walked over and pulled her up, giving her the bear that hug she must have been anticipating because she shoved him almost immediately after he let her go. Bra felt slightly jealous but pushed it back. Goten hadn't attempted to hug her even, and it had been four years since he'd seen her last.

Instead Bra concentrated on something else. Like, what was going on with Trunks and Pan anyhow? She was going to make it her business to find out. The second she could get the girl alone she would pry into everything about everything that Pan could tell her. But she needed to hear whatever gossip there was first, she needed to talk to Marron.

She put on the best 'I'm-very-happy-with-my-life' smile and stood up, her back and shoulders straight, head high as she marched over to the blonde. She knew what game she was playing now and there was no room for mistakes in this line of business. It was tough work getting back into a gossip ring. Especially since she had left all of Japan for four years without telling anyone where she'd gone or why she'd left.

There was bound to be so much juice going on about her that she could only imagine the stories. And Marron was going to want some information before she dished any out. It was Bra's job to make sure Marron knew nothing more than she knew right now when the whole thing was done. It wasn't going to be easy but it might just be fun...

Marron didn't even waste any time as Bra sat down, a slow smile creeping onto the soft features of her angelic face. "Where've you been?" She lifted a light blonde eyebrow, curiosity lacing her tone with a slight touch of edginess.

"Sitting on the chair across from you, Marron." Bra responded easily, expertly. "What have I missed?"

"Well," Marron said slowly as she seemed to consider Bra's question, trying to think up every little detail in response to Bra. Then she began, "Trunks has, obviously, paid someone to take pity on Pan this evening and put the girl in some decent clothing, for one thing. Goten, mysteriously, has arrived to a get-together without female companionship. Ubuu seems to think I'm meat that's been served up on a platter for his own personal eye feast and-"

"You know what I meant, Marron." Bra interrupted with a winning smile curving her lips slightly upward. "What have I missed while I was gone?"

"Oh," Marron said in awe, as if she hadn't caught on to what Bra was trying to ask until now. "So you were gone after all? Then you knew what I was asking, too, I presume. Where have you been?" She repeated the question with emphasis. Bra sighed heavily, appearing to appease Marron, through her own reluctance, by answering the question.

"The States." She provided 'reluctantly'. Marron edged her eyes closer together as she studied Bra, tilting her head to the side in the process.

"Which one?" She nearly spat out, though not raising her voice above the politely calm level she had been using previously.

"New York." Bra replied with the same venomous tone, as if it were hurting her to give the information up.

"Why?" The question came immediately after Bra's reply, making it obvious that Marron couldn't have even had time to absorb what Bra just said.

"Because I wanted to spread my wings. What's with all the questioning?" Bra maneuvered the situation so that there was no room for a response to her answer to Marron's question. But Marron was better than that, she ignored the last part of Bra's response as if the girl hadn't even said it.

"You wanted to 'spread your wings'? Well, did it work? You figure out how to fly?" There was biting sarcasm in her voice that she masked with a sickly sweet smile that Bra was beginning to hate. One Bra had used too many times in similar situations. She had never liked being left out of the loop and that was exactly what she was doing to Marron. The older girl might have been blonde, but she wasn't too dull to see that.

"As a matter of fact..." Bra answered smartly, crossing her arms under her chest as she narrowed her own crystal orbs at the girl. Goten had taught her to fly when she was fifteen. "So, what have I missed?" She asked after Marron glared at her for a few seconds before reservedly looking away.

"Everything. And you never even told me you were leaving." There was a hint of pain in her voice as she still refused to look at Bra. It made the demi-Saiyan feel a rush of embarrassed regretfulness. She and Marron had grown up together, after all.

Slowly she uncrossed her arms and rested one of her delicate hands on the thick strap of Marron's pale pink dress. "I was wrong for not contacting you, Marron, and I'm sorry. But it was an impulsive decision and you were on vacation when I left. Forgive me." She slowly debated what she should say and what she shouldn't.

She definitely couldn't tell the girl the truth, that she had been falling apart inside and _needed _to get away, that would lead to nothing but disaster because Marron couldn't keep her mouth shut for anything. But she could make up something snobbishly acceptable, something socially considered horrible and worth running away for, and that would suffice in this situation. Quick as lightning, her mind came up with an answer, the excuse rolling off her tongue before she could stop it.

"I always felt so smothered at home, you know. Like I could never do anything." Her voice was melodically soft as she said it, keeping the pretense that she didn't want anyone else to hear her. And, in truth, she didn't because she wasn't being honest. She would hate to think her brother blamed himself for her leaving or that he accused her father, and what she was about to say would cause both those feelings to rise inside of him if he believed it.

"I mean, it's not easy being the daughter of a full blown over-protective alien and the sister of someone who won't let a guy _look_ at her without threatening his life. I just...I had to find out what it was like to be normal. Plus, hardly anyone in America knows I'm 'famous Bra Briefs'. It was all just so exciting."

How long would she keep doing this? Playing this twisted roll that forced her to be two-faced, even to her own reflection? She was living a double life, a double lie. Always had been, that was why she'd left in the first place. But it seemed to work again as Marron slowly eased her way around, turning her head to face Bra suspiciously.

"So, you got caught up in American life, huh? In being free and all that and you just decided not to come home. But..." Marron was giving her a calculating glare, as if something didn't add up at all. "But you were gone for so long," Her eyes widened to emphasize how long. "There had to be something more keeping you there..."

Bra bit her lip to keep from telling Marron that she didn't understand the first thing about it. To keep from snapping the way she wanted to. She simply held her breath, trying to think up some kind of excuse. But, as it turned out, it didn't matter, Marron beat her to it.

Her sky-blue eyes widened as a sly smirk eased onto her lips, making her look like she just discovered who stole the cookies from the cookie jar. "There was a boy, wasn't there? That's what kept you away." She sounded very triumphant, a proud look gleaming in her frosty eyes. "You fell in love and you couldn't bring yourself to tell him about the family so you milked it. But...why did you come back? Where is he now? Did it work out and you're just easing the blow for when you tell your family? What's he like? Tell me everything."

"There was a boy. But I'm using past tense so can we just drop it?" Bra answered as smoothly as she could, trying not to lie while not giving herself away. "I asked _you_ to tell me everything. We can talk about me later."

"Oh fine," Marron sighed, her curiosity quenched for the moment, briefly seeing the heartbreak in Bra's eyes and knowing when she was beat. Besides, the gossip was good, she'd had four years to accumulate it.

"Where should I start? Well...Elisa Maitlin got married last summer to Kiorin Harhye..."

Bra's eyes lit for a second as she nodded, listening to Marron drone on about the news. Occasionally she would give a nod or a gasp, when she felt Marron was expecting it, but truthfully she had tuned out. She was only waiting for one name, one bit of information really.

Finally, the Sons were brought up, Pan first since the girl had gotten up a little while after Goten and Trunks started talking, following the boys wherever they had gone. Probably fighting, Bra thought as she started listening to what Marron had to say.

"She was working in marketing but I'm pretty sure she just quit. Anyway," Marron was saying, shaking her head as if something horrible had happened and scrunching up her face momentarily. "Pan started dating this guy named Brandon Cofler, not that she doesn't date plenty of guys, mind you," Marron's eye lids opened wide before returning back to normal, letting Bra know exactly what she meant by 'dating' and 'plenty of guys'. "And it turned out pretty serious, I think. But I don't know..." Marron shrugged. "He had to have been cheating on her, I mean, what would a guy want with Pan besides her body? She's so..." She shook the thought off, wrinkling her face again.

"Anyways, it broke her heart when he stopped calling. Apparently, just out of the blue stopped calling. I think I heard her dad walked in on them right before they...you know...and scared the daylights of him. Poor boy. He was cute too. Definitely the best _Pan_ will ever get." Marron was wearily moving her head from side to side as if she actually felt badly for Pan.

Bra found that her hands were clutched together in the form of fists, her eyebrows scrunched until she looked as though she had a uni-brow. She straightened immediately, not wanting to tip Marron off. But how could she be such a bitch? So shallow and- Bra's head started to hurt as she remembered how many times she and Marron had discussed Pan. Bra had never been upset before during those conversations, had all of them gone like this? Had Bra been just as bitchy? Dende, she hoped not. If so, no wonder Pan didn't like her.

"So, I heard he's dating a girl named Mai now. She's friends with Jeanne, who's friends with Kori, who's friends with Paris and Paris told me. Speaking of Paris," Marron leaned in, obviously there was some juice here and it was exactly what Bra wanted to hear. Was Goten still with her? She leaned in too.

"She and Goten got engaged eight months ago," Bra felt as if all the wind had swept out of her system in that one instant. She choked out loud before she could stop herself, her face horror stricken for just the barest of moments. That was all Marron needed, though. She raised a perceptive eyebrow up before letting it fall back down, deciding not to mention Bra's lack of grace.

"Exactly what _I_ thought." Marron nodded, crossing her arms. "Goten-Playboy-Son can not be seriously wanting to marry this girl. It would never work, they've broken up and gotten back together a million times these last seven years. But," Her eyes glinted as Bra regained her senses, finally calming down.

"Trunks invited him to this corporate party a month later and they both got smashed. Completely smashed, I tell you. They both woke up with someone who's name they didn't know," Marron's eyebrows rose up and down playfully, a devious smirk enrapturing her pink lips. "And when Paris found out, three months later, she threw the things he'd left at her house out on the lawn and burned them. Right on the grass, throwing the engagement ring on top. They haven't spoken since." Marron sat back as if she were satisfied.

"Why not?" Bra questioned, whispering because she couldn't believe her luck. Marron gave her a confused look. "I mean, I know Goten and he's not one to let something he wants get away. Why hasn't he tried to persuade her. And, since it's not the first time he's cheated, why did she get so upset?"

"But, Bra, it is the first time he's cheated. Well, I mean, since he told her he loved her and only wanted to be with her."

"Okay, but even so, he was drunk. Surely she can forgive him." Bra was trying to put herself in that situation. Paris definitely wouldn't stay away for long. Bra had to move in if she wanted to be with Goten and she had to do it quickly.

"Yeah, but she wants him to apologize and, as you should know, he's not going to do that. He thinks she overreacted, he's upset that she made such a spectacle, that she didn't consult him first,"

"You mean," Bra interrupted. "He's pissed because she burned his stuff and the newspapers probably covered it so it embarrassed him in public."

"Exactly." Marron agreed, grinning. "And she's pissed that he kept it from her for three months, that he probably wouldn't have told her. She feels like she's taken too much of his crap and she says that this time she's through."

Yeah, right. Bra though wryly, shaking her head. If it were her, Goten wouldn't even have had to explain, only apologize and promise that it was pure accident, pride be damned. Though she'd never admit that out loud and, secretly, she was thinking that if it had been her he wouldn't have cheated in the first place. There wouldn't have been reason to, drunk or not. And yet, she knew, it would never be her. Not unless she figured out what to do about it.

She needed this more than she'd ever needed anything in her whole life. But...she wasn't sure she was ready yet. And it would be colossal if she acted before she was ready.

Marron's voice drew her from her thoughts as the blonde girl gave her a wicked grin and shook her head. "If you ask me, though, they're not going to stay away from each other for too long." She smirked at this revelation as though she knew the greatest piece of news anyone had ever run across. Bra managed to suppress her shudder as Marron moved on to more news that she was just dying to spill. Bra forced interest into her eyes, making herself try and listen to the rest as her mind flooded with thoughts of what moves to make and when to make them.

Marron was right, Paris wouldn't stay away from Goten for long. And Goten wouldn't let her even if she tried to. So the question was, what was she going to do about it? That's where Pan came in...

_To be continued..._


	6. Always Today

Rainwater  
Chapter 5: Always Today   
Rating: R for sexual situations and suggestions, adult topics and language.  
_WitchyPrincess_

_Always Today_

_The last thing I need is for something else to turn out wrong in my life. I can't take another disappointment. Each day is a war and waking up is the biggest battle. Being alive is one thing but actually living is another thing all together. _

_Every morning is a struggle to open my eyes, to roll over and see the sun. Every day I'm pushing back tears, watching happy people live luxuriously happy lives...and I hate them. Because they're not me. Because they're happy and all I want to do is fall down a flight of stairs - or something equally clumsy and tragic simply to prove I'm not perfect - and die._

_I'm sick of everyone expecting me to 'do the right thing' and looking toward me when they want to have a good time. When did I start being labeled the 'party girl'? When was it that I was crowned queen of happiness? I mean, I know I put up a good front but that doesn't change how I feel. And that's hopeless. _

_Why is it that people come to me for advice in their lives? In their problems? If they only knew that I was falling apart inside. If they could see my heart instead of just my smile then they'd know. But no one ever looks beyond the gleam of my sparkly blue eyes to see the soul of the person inside. _

_I keep telling myself tomorrow's going to be a better day. Tomorrow I'll be happier, tomorrow I will really smile because it can't possibly be any worse than today. Today was the worst and there is no exception. But, you see, there's a silly little trick about that word - "tomorrow" - it doesn't exist. It's always today and it's never better._

_—Bra Briefs_  
#######

Pan crossed her arms, glaring angrily and unable to believe what she was doing. It would be just like Trunks to exploit her like this. It wasn't fair. Just because she'd said 'anything' didn't mean she wanted to take it this far. Who did he think he was? And why did Goten and Ubuu find this so funny?

She snapped her head around, glaring at them, before turning back to look at Trunks. To her satisfaction, they shut-up abruptly.

"You're not serious. Tell me that you're not serious Trunks-San." She commanded, crossing her arms and looking very Vegita like. Trunks smirked, also looking like his father as he shrugged his shoulders.

"Actually, Pan-Chan, I am." He informed, handing her the pen. "Now be a good little girl and sign this document for me."

"How did you get it so fast? Who typed it up and when did they fax it to you?" She questioned suspiciously, reading over the paper again.

"My lawyer typed it up and faxed it during dinner because I used my cell to call him from your place while I waited for you to get ready. Now quit stalling and sign it all ready, you've read it three times now. You know what it says."

"Just because I know what it says doesn't mean there's not fine print. I'm not stupid and I don't trust you, so I see no reason to rush."

"Aww, now Pan, there's no reason not to trust me." He cooed, closing his eyes in satisfaction as she continued to frown in his direction. "Besides, you've already said you'd do anything, and you will. I'm here to make sure you keep your word."

"I'll keep my word," She promised, poising the pen over the dotted line. "We're not all dirty lairs." She announced, smirking at him as she signed.

"Whatever, Son, just as long as you realize I own you now." He quipped, laughing softly. She straightened up as he pulled the document toward him, turning to thank Ubuu and Goten for watching her sign it. She placed her hands on her well defined hips, glaring at them all still.

"How did you know I quit my job?" She asked, her voice still cautiously curious.

"Pan, I'm the president of Capsule Corporations. I could find out what type of underwear you wore last week if that's what I wanted to know." He informed, eyeing her significantly. She upturned her lips, crossed her arms over her chest, and backed away.

"That's disgusting, Trunks, and disturbing. Don't you ever snoop in my life, you pervert."

"I promise you, Pan, I don't have any inclination to find out what underwear you wore last week. I barely even want to know where you live, much less what you're wearing."

Pan sighed, obviously angry, as Goten coughed. Ubuu eased his way out of the room, looking rather nervous with the situation, and Trunks chuckled softly.

"Shall we discuss the fine points of our new..._life_ together?" He teased, raising a curious eyebrow. She growled in his direction, a rather sexy sound, as Goten chuckled his way out of the room as well.

"Don't talk to me like that," She warned, shaking her head. "And no, I don't want to discuss anything with you, bastard, except when you're going to die."

"Now, is that any way to talk to your new boss?" He teased, looking at her intently as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"Screw you, Trunks, I just want to get out of here and far away from you." She added, sneering at him. He smirked again, shaking his head.

"Nope, no way at all." He continued to tease. "Now sit down so we can talk about the details."

"There's nothing to discuss. You've already said it, you own me."

For some reason, her saying it sounded like different words to his ears. It sent a whole different sensation down his spine as he looked down at her. He hated to admit it, but she was beautiful. Pale green was definitely her color, and that dress wrapped around her like a lover's touch. He hadn't been able to think about anything but the way she looked all through dinner. That, and the kiss they'd shared four years ago. Silently, he wondered if she'd been thinking about it too.

"I'm glad you recognize that, but this is serious. You need to be to work on time, every morning. I want to see you in that office, and don't think I'm not going to check. I want your job to be top notch, just because you have a contract doesn't mean you can slack off. And, remember, if you don't do your best simply because you want to get fired, not only will you be breaking a promise, you'll be setting yourself up for a lawsuit. You're my new marketing accountant now, and I take my business seriously. Even if it was _given_ to me," He added, remembering her past remark about how he was a 'low-life'.

"Shut-up, Trunks. I'll do my job. Now," She sighed, smoothing down her dress. The action caused his eyes to roam her curves, making him lose his train of thought anyway. "Can I go?"

He shook out of it, swallowing hard. "Not yet," He told her, jaw set. "Remember that you have to help me with the quarterlies, first thing tomorrow morning. It's probably going to take a few days to do, the job is always hard. But I have full confidence in you. Considering you want to see me as seldom as possible." She sighed and started to walk out of the room, her eyes still displaying how angry she was.

That was something he'd always liked about Pan. Her eyes showed her emotions clearly, even if her actions didn't. He could always read her like a book through those eyes. Now, it only made him shiver because all he saw was hate. He used to see adoration and devotion in those eyes. She used to look up at him like he held her world in his palm. She used to make him feel special.

He could use someone making him feel special right about now. He hadn't felt that way in years, hadn't felt calm or collected since she caused him to understand why he'd never truly be happy. Since she pointed out why he'd never find love. And she'd been right about him. He was a coward, a low-life, he was self-involved. He hated that she knew him better than he knew himself back then. He hated that she didn't know him at all now.

What was wrong with him? He thought, wondering why he wanted anything to do with Pan. Why had he just arranged for her to spend time with him, nearly every day for a couple of weeks most likely? Why had he just forced her to take a job at Capsule where he'd have to see her often? But, most importantly, why did he just have a thought about wanting her to know him?

He didn't want anything from her. Except for her to talk with his sister. At that thought, he remembered what else he had to tell her.

"Pan," He called out nicely, so she'd turn back. She did. "Please go visit my sister before you leave. I think she wants to speak with you."

The girl looked angry as she walked away, clearly not willing to take requests from him. He hoped she would anyway. Bra wanted so badly to talk with her.

#######

Bra smiled softly at the girl in front of her, praying silently that Pan didn't hate her as much as she had the right to. After her long discussion with Marron, Bra realized that she had been, to put it lightly, a real bitch to Pan over the years.

She had talked about the girl mercilessly. She had insulted her to her face, even. Sometimes she hadn't even bothered to pretend and be nice to her and every 'delicate' girl, like herself, knew that you were at least supposed to pretend at all times. She had learned as much from her mother over the years.

But with Pan she had been...positively vicious, Bra realized suddenly. She didn't deserve leeway, and she didn't deserve forgiveness. But she was going to ask for it anyway. A lot of things had happened to her over the years that had changed her outlook on life. That had made her become the humble, less snobby person that stood in front of the quarter-Saiyan asking for a bit of mercy.

"What is it that you wanted, Bra?" Pan asked cautiously, all pretenses of liking Bra dropped since they were standing in the center of Bra's room, completely alone.

The room was large with peach paint splattered over the walls in a fancy pattern that mixed brilliantly with the off white crown molding. The posters and decorations that Bra had left on the walls when she moved were still in place, not once touched or taken down. Everything was left exactly the way it was before, from the designer clothes and shoes on her closet racks and the towels that hung in her bathroom, to the stuffed animals on her bed. The only sign that anyone had ever even been in the room at all was the absence of dust on her things.

"Listen, I won't bother wasting your time with phony questions about how you are and the like, I'll just get right to it," Bra told her, giving Pan a serious look as she walked over to her cream white couch and took a seat, telling Pan with her eyes to do the same.

The raven-haired girl sighed, rolling her eyes in annoyance as she took the seat next to Bra while giving her a look that clearly stated 'make this quick'.

"You can go ahead and call me a bitch if it'll help get it out of your system." Bra offered lightly, as though they were discussing the weather.

"I thought you said you were going to get right to it." Pan reminded after she raised a confused, yet slightly intrigued, eyebrow. "What's the meaning of this..." She sounded as lost as her eyes looked. Bra smiled fondly, remembering how Pan's emotions were always displayed through her eyes.

"That's what this is about. I wanted to...well...I wanted to say that maybe I...I mean, I know I...wronged you...alot...And I'm..." She bit her lower lip in annoyance with herself. She knew why this was so hard though; Briefs didn't say 'sorry' for anything, ever. She was breaking a cardinal rule here and she knew it. But she needed Pan's allegiance more than she needed the air she was breathing at the moment.

"Are you trying to apologize for something?" Pan sounded astonished as Bra nodded eagerly, glad Pan had done the hard part of the job for her. The younger girl nearly choked at Bra's admission.

"What'd you do?" Pan continued with a slightly awed tone to her voice. "Did you make a time machine and go into the future to kill me off and now you feel guilty or something? Did Hell freeze over? Did Dende make you do this?" Pan seemed to be in a frenzy, listing anything she could think of that would possibly make Bra do something so drastic.

"Pan," Bra interrupted her tirade with an annoyed smirk turning her lips downward. "You proved your point, and I must say, that was much better than just calling me a bitch outright."

"I aim to please." Pan smirked expertly. "But really, what happened to make you feel the need to...be...nice to me?" She said the words hesitantly, her face twisting when she said 'nice' and 'me'.

"As a matter of fact," Bra's lips snaked into a sneaky sort of grin. "Hell did freeze over, I guess."

Pan groaned and sat back in the chair, rolling her eyes and deciding not to respond.

"Listen, Pan, I wanted to call a truce. We've been silently destroying each other for years."

"Wrong," Pan corrected, eyes narrowed. "You've been silently destroying _me_ for years. I've never harmed you with looks that kill or anything like that."

Bra sighed, waving her hands in defeat. "Okay, I said you did a good job of calling me a bitch already. And you're exaggerating a bit, you haven't been perfectly sweet to me all these years. In fact, I could name a few times where you,"

"Fine, fine, I'll let you win this one Briefs. Sometimes I struck back, but never without good cause." Pan looked ready to throw something at Bra as the memories flooded back to her.

"Pan," Bra reminded gently. "I'm trying to be nice here and call a truce, remember?"

The younger girl shrugged, brushing a strand of raven hair out of her face. "You call it nice, I call it suspicious."

"Anyways," Bra took control before the situation had a chance to get worse, changing the subject. "I said I would get right to the point and that's what I'm going to do. I need you, Pan."

A brief silence, and then, "You _need_ me? Have you lost your marbles?" Pan looked as though she didn't know what to say, what to think. Her eyes widened as her eyebrows turned downward and she scooted further away from Bra on the chair. The blue-haired girl couldn't help but laugh at the awkward way everything was put out there.

Suddenly the laughter felt good to her throat and she couldn't stop it. She fell into a fit of undignified giggles, doubling over as she shook her head and grabbed at her stomach. This was all just too much for her to handle in one day, she realized. With Goten reigniting all of those old feelings she used to have for him, Marron making her realize what a selfish, snobby baby she used to be, and finally Pan. Pan who could refuse to accept her 'apology' and never lift a finger to help her. Pan who was weary of Bra, moving away as if she feared Bra might jump on her at any second, calling her actions 'suspicious'.

Finally she was able to regain her control and she sat up straight in her chair. By that time she caught her breath she was sure that, if she hadn't been trained to always cover her emotions, her face would have been just as shocked as Pan's. She never let loose like that, she never gave way to her impulses and just released emotions no matter how they piled up. She usually just held them all at bay and kept up her mask of happiness.

"What do you mean, 'you need me'?" Pan asked once she was positive that Bra was calm enough to continue a conversation. She didn't, though, look as though she believed Bra was sane enough. Bra honestly couldn't say she blamed her.

"I mean, look Pan, you said it yourself once." Bra changed the subject mysteriously, not making any sense to Pan. This seemed to confirm the girl's suspicions that Bra had indeed lost some of her marbles.

"What are you talking about?" Bra could hear the stress and slight panic in Pan's voice, mixed with the annoyance she knew the girl felt.

"When we were younger you told me that I was a disgrace to the Saiyan title. Remember?" She continued on without waiting for Pan to respond. "You said a Saiyan princess should know how to handle herself and I was nothing but a joke. That if I were a real Saiyan I would know how to fight for myself and not rely on my _daddy_ to win my battles. I mean, you were the only one who ever managed to make me feel bad about not being a warrior."

Pan smiled lightly, thinking Bra was being a little over dramatic about the whole situation from long ago, still not sure why the girl had brought it up. "Bra, you're being ridiculous. We were children then, and if I recall correctly I also said that it didn't matter whether or not you could fight because one day, when Trunks-San and I got married, I'd be the Saiyan queen and you'd have nothing to worry about. And, if I recall, you laughed at me."

"Only because you made me feel so inadequate." Bra told her seriously. "Defense mechanism, you know? And we weren't _children_, Pan, you were seventeen."

"Yeah, and I was delusional, so what's your point?" Pan shot back at her, defensive in her tone.

"You were not delusional, at least, I didn't think so."

"I thought I could get your brother to marry me." Pan told her mockingly.

"I believed you could." Bra defended, frowning.

"Then you were stupid." The tone the younger girl took as she said this made it seem like she was arguing with someone. Bra noticed this but she didn't comment, knowing that there was no way Pan could be arguing with _her_, she was only stating facts.

"No," Bra responded calmly. "I just know you, or rather, I _knew_ you. And I knew the person you were, Pan, you weren't someone who'd take no for an answer. I mean, everything you've ever wanted you fought for.

"Just use those black star dragon balls for example. You weren't even supposed to be the one searching for them with Trunks and Goku but you found a way to get what you wanted. And...that's the way I've always seen you. As this sort of powerhouse that knew it's every goal and exactly how to accomplish it."

"So you figured that just because I wanted to be Mrs. Trunks Briefs at seventeen I would get to? Despite the fact that your brother hated everything about me? Despite the fact that he's fourteen years older than I am? Despite the fact that he's probably gay?"

"Pan," Bra cut her off, a warning look in her eyes.

"What? He used to take baths with Goten and they merged into each other's bodies. Now, while I know Goten likes the girls I haven't seen Trunks-San serious with any women...all these years...I'd say that was more than enough reason to raise suspicion. Not even mentioning the way he seemed to completely miss how beautiful I was." There was a slight tone of bitter sarcasm in her voice towards the end, but the rest was said with light amusement. Bra could only laugh at Pan's crazy reasoning for why her brother was sure to be 'gay'.

"My point is," Bra started again, shaking her head. "I've never seen you want something and not get it. So, yes, I thought that if you wanted Trunks you could have him. I still do."

Pan nearly choked. "You're kidding me, right? You think mister 'I'm everything, obey my every command' would fall to his knees and obey my beck and call if I set my mind to making him want to?"

"Well...you have to know your limits, Pan." Bra shook her head, wincing slightly at the impossible picture Pan painted. "I said I think he'd marry you if you were determined to snag him, not that he'd bow to you and obey your crazy commands. My brother may not be able to fight off a determined you, but he's still Trunks. He'd do anything to maintain his pride. And falling to your beck and call is not in that package."

"Okay," Pan started, interested in the conversation now. "So how did you imagine me going about this...winning of your brother's heart?" She was fighting back the laughter as she asked.

"Do you still want to?" Bra questioned eagerly, her blue eyes lighting as she awaited the answer that she was sure she already knew.

"Hell no." Pan told her confidently. "Your brother's an ass and I pity the woman who gets stuck with him...if he isn't gay, that is."

"Pan! He's not gay." Bra defended, slightly shocked because she had expected Pan to say 'yes'. She had thought for sure that there was something going on with Trunks and Pan. And she had thought Pan's annoyed look around Trunks this evening had been because the girl was playing hard to get. But, apparently, she wasn't playing at all.

That made for interesting contemplation. So Pan no longer wanted Trunks? Or was she just fooling herself and she seriously did want him still but wouldn't admit it? Bra was curious to find out but she knew she wouldn't get a straight answer from Pan if this was something the girl didn't want her to know. Pan could keep secrets with the best of them, which was why Bra had her sitting in her room right now, preparing to ask what she was about to ask.

"Whatever. Look, weren't you telling me something important a minute ago? Didn't we get off topic?" Pan questioned, interrupting Bra's contemplation. Bra simply smiled, shaking her head at Pan.

"No, we were directly on topic. What I was saying was that you've always been a woman that fought for what you wanted. What I'm asking of you," _Really, I'm begging_, Bra corrected silently. "Is that you help me. Pan, I want you to teach me how to fight."

Bra watched the girl's reaction carefully, wondering if she was going to laugh. She didn't. Instead she sat up straighter on the chair, crossing her ankles and leaning her head back. Then she titled her face and looked Bra right in the eyes, her own shining with what could only be curiosity.

"Are you talking literally or figuratively here? Do you want me to teach you how to throw punches or get what you want out of men? 'Cause I'm afraid that I won't be able to help with the second one, though I'm sure you don't need assistance in that department."

"Both, actually." Bra told her seriously. "I want you to teach me how to throw punches and take offense in a fight. But in the process I'll be learning how to take what I want in life."

"How are you going to do that? And why would you need help learning how to get what you want? You've got it all, Princess."

"I haven't got what I want, Pan. And don't call me 'princess' nothing pisses me off more."

"Sorry, I wasn't trying to offend you." Pan told her in a defensive tone, giving a curious look as she continued. "So, what is it that you want but haven't got?" She asked the question in a way that made it sound as if she didn't believe something like that were possible. Imagine, Bra not getting something she wanted.

"Your uncle." Bra told her seriously, their eyes boring into each other after she said it. "And I expect you to keep that confidential. I'm not like you, Pan, I just can't go advertising every guy I'm interested in. But I don't mean that as an insult." She amended quickly.

"You want my uncle? What for?" Pan sounded incredulous.

"Take a wild guess." Bra told her dryly, fighting the urge to roll her eyes at the stupid question.

"No, I mean, why Goten? He's practically Paris' property."

"I know." Bra replied, a hopeless tone to her voice.

"Oh, is that why you want him? You like the challenge or something? Bra, I'm telling you, Saiyan or not, it's not worth the battle. You're probably going to come out lacking."

"I know that Pan." There was anger in Bra's voice as she responded, she was near a shout even. "Look I didn't ask you to help me so that you could talk me out of this. I asked because I need the help. And it's not like I'm begging you to teach me how to trap him or something, I just want you to show me how to fight."

"What for? I still don't get the connection."

"For when I fight Paris."

"Bra, you don't need my assistance if you're planning to kick Paris' ass. You can just fly right over to her house and do it. She's only human, you know?"

"No, Pan. I'm not going to fight her literally. I'm going to fight her mentally. But I need you to literally teach me how to fight because, mental or not, I'm about to go into battle with this woman. I need to be prepared in all aspects of the word."

"So, this is like some kind of ritual before you take your shot at Goten? Or is it your Saiyan blood saying you took long enough about it?" Pan added slyly.

"It's just that...Well, I might as well tell you." Bra sighed, clearly not wanting to admit this. "Like I've already said, I believe that you can get anything you want. Even my brother. Well, I've always thought it had something to do with you knowing how to fight, you know. Like, you always stood up for what you believed in. You were never scared to throw a punch. I just...I feel like, if you teach me how to fight some of that will rub off on me. I mean, the way you live your life is the same way you fight, Pan. With aggression. When you teach me how to fight, you'll be teaching me how you get what you want - teaching me how to do it as well."

"So you believe that if I teach you how to fight you'll be able to get anything you want by using those fighting tactics in life? You think my life is perfect, Bra? Because it's not. And I can't get everything I want, you're fooling yourself if you think I can."

"What have you ever wanted that you've been denied?"

Bra watched her, waiting patiently as the answer flicked across Pan's eyes. There was something there, something she wanted to say but didn't. Her eyes narrowed and she shook her head, turning her face away from Bra as she spoke her next words.

"I wanted my grandfather but that didn't keep him from merging with the dragon balls, now did it?" She looked down at her silver watch as Bra opened her mouth to respond, finding her throat hoarse in the process. There was nothing she could say to that. Goku was gone.

"Anyway, I have to go, I need to get some sleep tonight. I have to _work _early tomorrow morning." There was a sharp edge to Pan's voice as she said this, the anger clearly evident though Bra wasn't sure why. Hadn't Marron told her that Pan just quit her job?

"Where do you work?" Bra asked, to be sure.

"Oh, I used to work at Toplin's advertising as a marketing manager but the job got too cut-throat for me, people stabbing each other in the back," She stated bitterly, hinting that she meant more than just in the work place. "So I quit about three weeks ago." Pan responded lightly, standing up. "No, I have to go to Capsule tomorrow morning and do some quarterly job analysis papers with your slimy brother. I'm the new marketing accountant." Her face wrinkled as she said it, glaring at the wall as though it were Trunks and she wanted to stab it.

"Why in the world are you doing quarterly analysis with him? That's the worst job you could have possibly taken, even if you need the cash Pan."

"I don't need the cash, I set aside fifteen percent of every one of my paychecks for the entire two years I worked at Toplin's. And it's not like Trunks is going to pay me much for doing this." Pan closed her eyes, scrunching her face and for all the world looking as if she had a sour taste in her mouth that she couldn't spit out.

"Then why would you do this? I thought you said you didn't like my brother?" Bra was getting suspicious.

"I don't. Your brother was killing me in my apartment and I told him I'd do anything in the world that he wanted if he stopped. So this afternoon he made me sign a contract saying I was his new marketing accountant, you know, since I had experience in marketing and all. And he made Goten and Ubuu witness it so it's perfectly legal. So now I have to do his evil bidding."

For a moment neither of them said anything, then Bra burst into another fit of laughter. Pan sighed and rolled her eyes, walking out of the room and slamming Bra's door. Bra realized she didn't have an answer to her plea yet so she went chasing after Pan before she could reach the end of the hall.

"Hey, P-Chan, you didn't answer my question!" Bra called after her as Pan turned around.

"Don't call me P-Chan, Panny, Pan-Chan, or Panny-Chan ever again, Nothing pisses me off more, and you've got a deal." Pan informed her, smirking.

"Fine with me." Bra nodded, smiling on both the inside and out. "When do we start?"

"How's next Friday for you?"

"Perfect." Bra was grinning now and slightly surprised at herself for it. Pan looked shocked.

"You really must be serious, Friday's a date night."

"Surely you don't mean at night?" Bra questioned, smile faltering. Pan laughed.

"No, I don't, I was just teasing you. We'll start at eight in the morning and work until nine thirty, that should be a light warm-up. Just enough for you." Bra nodded her agreement.

"Thanks Pan, I really appreciate this. You have no idea. Oh, and Pan, have fun at work tomorrow." She winked and turned back to her room.

"Whatever," Pan ignored her teasing, rolling her eyes. "Just don't expect this fighting to work miracles for you, okay? I don't want you to blame failure on the martial arts."

"I won't," Bra told her as she shut her room door. Then she added, "Fail, I mean," so that only she could hear it. And she meant it, she wouldn't fail. This was too important to her and she couldn't take another disappointment in her life.

_To be continued..._


	7. Fumble Wonders

Rainwater  
Chapter 6: Fumble Wonders  
Rating: R for sexual situations and suggestions, adult topics and language.  
_WitchyPrincess_

_Fumble Wonders_

_The more you run from things the closer you seem to get to them. I know that sounds like a paradox, but think about it. The less you try to remember something, the more times it flits through your brain. _

_This I know from experience. _

_I spent four years trying to forget he existed. Trying to forget that I loved him and needed him. Trying to block out the fact that I cared for him. If I had only thought to fall in love using my mind, instead of my heart, I wouldn't be in this predicament. You see, you can change your mind, but never your heart. _

_It took me four years worth of denying that one statement, four years of convincing myself that it wasn't true, and it only took him one night to change my mind. How did I drift from hate to...something else, in one night? Is there really that thin of a line between them? How could I be thinking about him, knowing I would be seeing him again, and not be even the slightest bit disgusted by the thought? Especially when a few days ago I would have hurled to think that I'd have to see this man every day._

_I can't love him still. I can't possibly want him still. _

_I don't need him, and it will be all right. Right?_

_–Pan Son_  
#######

Pan sighed, running her hands over her face in an exasperated manner as she picked up another piece of paper. This wasn't right. There was no way on this good green earth that this was fair. She huffed angrily to herself, letting her eyes skim the words as she resisted the urge to throw everything off this desk she was sitting at and fly out the window.

Who the hell did Trunks-San think he was? Dende? He couldn't just leave her with all this paper work while he took an extended lunch break with _Cindy_, the girl that had shown up at twelve thirty wearing an extremely short blue skirt with a tight blue blazer to match with her white blouse. The girl that he claimed was a business associate who was going to give him the latest report on how the new Capsule designs were doing with the mainstream consumers. Yeah, right.

Pan wasn't stupid, she knew what kind of 'business' date he was on with this girl. And, in the meantime, he had left her to handle all of his company dirty work alone. They had been working on these dumb ass quarterly analyses for three days now and she didn't think she could take another minute of it.

On the bright side, Trunks-San wasn't by her side. Breathing down her neck while she worked, checking to see if she did everything throughly enough in between him doing his normal work and these quarterlies as well. Making shivers run down her spine every time he stepped too closely or breathed in such a way that the air traveled out of his mouth, down her spine, and rested somewhere inside her soul making her heart skip beats. Why was he so damn sexy?

And why wasn't she immune to it? She had enough reason to be. She knew he wasn't good for her. She knew that she couldn't put herself out there and risk falling apart like she had when she was younger. She knew she couldn't get lost in him. And, most importantly, she knew he didn't want her. Yet...None of those thoughts stopped her from wanting to throw everything off this desk and pull him down on it when he was in the room with her.

Ugh, she had enough on her brain without dealing with this...attraction she felt towards that jerk of boy. Like her father, for one. He still hadn't called to talk to her and she hadn't said a word to him. It had been half of a week since their fallout fight and still there was no apology. If he was waiting for her to come around and say she took back everything she said, he was out of luck. She wasn't going to.

But she wouldn't mind if he would just come around to talk with her. To show that he wasn't upset with her. She'd meant what she said, she didn't want him butting into her life problems, but that didn't mean she wanted him out of her life completely. She still wanted him to be there and just be a father. She still wanted to know that they could talk if she needed him.

If this was his way of proving a point, she could hold out just as long as he could. If he thought she as going to come crawling back to him, begging that he take control of her life again because she couldn't manage it, he was wrong. They might never hold a decent conversation if that was the case. And never wasn't an exaggeration, both Pan and Gohan could be very stubborn when they wanted to be.

The sound of the door to Trunks-San's office opening drew those thoughts out of her head. She looked up from the paper, just now realizing that she hadn't really been reading at all, an annoyed crease to her face as she watched to see who it was. She noticed his lavender hair first and quickly averted her eyes so that they were back on the paper, trying to hide the anger clouding her vision.

She shouldn't feel anything towards him, she reminded herself. Not lust, not spite, not hate, or anger and certainly not love. She definitely didn't love him, she thought firmly, finally taking in what the paper she was supposed to be reading was talking about. She picked up the red pen and started to make her notes on margins of the paper, not even flinching as she felt Trunks' body heat so near her.

#######

He looked down at her, telling himself he was getting a closer look at the paper she was reviewing as he tried not to breathe in the intoxicating scent of her hair. What exactly was that smell anyway? He wondered, losing his train of thought completely. It was somewhat of a minty smell, he thought, breathing in a little deeper, leaning a little closer. It reminded him of Winter's crisp clean air, giving him a warm feeling that made him think of when he was a child and he used to exhale into the air just to watch the vapor.

It was as he had that thought that she leaned further over the paper, drawing in a deep breath and exhaling it loudly. He realized that he must have been making her uncomfortable and so he moved around his desk to take a seat on the chair to the side of it.

"How's the work coming?" He asked pleasantly, ignoring his head and the thoughts that were swirling around in it.

"Just fine." She answered with detached interest in her voice, slightly annoyed he noticed. He tried not to smirk. "How was lunch?" Her lips curled as she said lunch, looking up at him with evident distress.

Now he was sure she was angry. But what was new, really? She was usually angry at him and, he had to say, he didn't mind much. Honestly, he liked her better when she was angry, the only other Pan he remembered was the one that used to fling herself into his arms. And, well, anger was definitely the better of the two.

Of course, as he thought this his eyes traveled curiously from her face to trace the outline of her curves, he might not mind the other Pan now. As he realized what he'd just done, he cursed inwardly. For three days he'd been doing this, catching himself as he checked her out. But this was Pan, for Dende's sake. There was no need, no reason, no excuse for finding her even remotely attractive. And yet he did. More so than just remotely.

It wasn't his fault really. She was twenty-five and, being completely honest, that age looked good on her. Everything that used to look awkward on her body, or on her face, now looked as though a goddess had molded it until it was the perfect shape. Everything looked perfectly proportional and perfectly placed. And he couldn't quite get the image of her all dressed up for that party out of his head.

Without a doubt, the girl was completely gorgeous and she had been sitting in his office every day since he made her sign that stupid contract. So, of course he would think manly things while she was there, he was a man after all. And she, he admitted with some dismay, was definitely a woman.

"It was great." He gave her a refreshed smile, stretching out on the couch and closing his eyes as though he didn't have a care in the world. He knew it would anger her, that might have been why he did it. After a second of uninterrupted rest he felt something heavy and metal bang against his head with supernatural force. He clenched his jaw, trying not to react, and slowly opened his eyes.

"Can I help you?" He questioned sweetly.

"Yes, since you offered." She told him curtly, throwing a manilla folder his way so quickly that the papers didn't even fly out. "At least pretend like you worked to get this company."

"I did work." He responded crossly, anger dancing in his eyes for the briefest of moments. Then he remembered that she took pleasure in knowing she had angered him so he wiped it away, smiling at her again.

"And why the hell are you so damn cheery?" She challenged, her eyes narrowing to slits. "I would appreciate it if you would at least pretend that my presence annoys you just as much as yours does me. If I have to be miserable."

"Oh, my smile has nothing to do with you not annoying me, don't get your hopes up." Trunks assured her smartly. "I'd hate to break your fragile heart." He mocked, pure amusement in his eyes. She glowered at him, shifting uncomfortably in the chair she was in. He noticed but chose not to comment, silently wondering if he'd touched an old nerve or if she just really wanted to kill him. He decided it was the latter, realizing that she usually wanted to kill him.

"You don't look like you're reading." She warned him, getting back to the paper she was working on.

"I've got almost two months left to go over all these anyway, why should I overtax myself? Especially when you're here?" He winked at her, setting the folder on the floor.

"Trunks-San, I want you to pick that damn folder up and at least pretend like you're doing something constructive before I get up from this desk and kick your ass all the way to Dende's lookout and back." She warned, straightening in the chair and tilting her head threateningly to get the point across.

"Well, baby, just keep spreading that sunshine and I'll be begging you never to leave my office." She didn't respond, only rolled her gorgeous chocolate eyes at him and went back to work.

He did lean down and pick up the folder filled with papers, taking one out to pretend, but he didn't actually start to work. It couldn't have been more than two minutes before his eyes traveled away from the paper and landed on her softly rounded face, studying her closely while she was distracted.

Her cheeks were less pudgy now, he noticed, and more defined. So was her chin. Her eyes were a vibrantly dark brown that made him tingle for some reason, and her nose was perfectly center, perfectly proportioned. It was driving him crazy how badly he wanted to get her attention again and make her glower at him. Also, the fact that her pink lips were so round and inviting was a continuing distraction as well. He'd had dreams about those damn lips last night.

"Please tell me why the hell you're staring at me." She demanded more than asked, her eyes shooting up as she challenged him.

He tried, in all sincerity he tried with all he had, to fight off the blush that rose from the bottom of his face all the way to the top of his ears, to no avail. She didn't say anything, only sighed and put the paper down, shaking her head.

"If you're not going to work," She began, fighting a smile as she spoke. "Then neither am I." She made it sound like a threat, and he was sure she meant it to be, but he was too concerned with the smile that had found her lips. It was so completely delicious he didn't know if he could catch his breath.

He shrugged after she said it, smiling as well. "I could really care less, Pan." His eyes glinted dangerously as he said it, his head falling back onto the couch and his eyes closing once again. He couldn't stare at her all day, that wouldn't be a good thing. Besides, she was sure to kill him first.

Pan fought off the indignant noise that wanted to travel from her throat to his ears as he closed his eyes. She couldn't believe that he was doing this to her. He knew that if he didn't work it wouldn't really matter, but if she didn't she'd just have more to do and less time to do it in. She was only supposed to be _helping _him with these stupid quarterlies, not doing them for him. She wanted to scream.

And what was with him anyway? Coming in here and breathing all down her neck, making butterflies that she'd killed four years ago stir as he stood there...so close. Then that sarcastic comment about her 'fragile heart' as if she couldn't possibly feel anything remotely close to heartbreak when she felt it every day. Especially when he was so close to her, when she had to see him and be around him. How dare he?

Not to mention the staring that had resulted in one of those blushes that suggested he was being less than holy in his thoughts. Only Trunks would still be blushing, despite the fact that he was pushing forty, at the mere mention of something involving the opposite sex. She wondered if he blushed when he was with other women...intimately. The thought made laughter spill from her throat, the image too much for her to ignore.

She could just picture him trying to take off someone's bra. She wondered if he'd ever done it smoothly in his life. One of his eyes slowly eased open to look at her, wondering, she was sure, what was so funny. An evil glint lit her eyes as she bit her bottom lip, trying to stop the laughter from continuing. But his puzzled, slightly interested, slightly amused, expression wouldn't leave room for her to calm down.

"Trunks," She started, not able to stop herself from asking. "Have you ever found yourself unable to..." She broke into another fit of giggles, her face turning red as she thought of what she'd almost asked him, another round of laughter beginning. He sat up, smiling but confused, his face crinkled.

"Unable to..?" He questioned, eyes never easing away from her. She smirked as she caught her breath and controlled her laughter.

"Unable to..." She was about to lose it again, but she fought hard to maintain her composure. "Well, I was just thinking about how often you blush and I was just wondering...I was wondering if sometimes it's difficult for you to...well, you know...Convince a girl to sleep with you. Or...um...actually go through with it." She wet her lips, trying hard not to laugh again, watching for the red that she knew would creep right up his neck and across his face. It did within seconds.

"Pan," he started, eyes wide. "That's none of your business." He finally managed, after he controlled the flustered look on his face and in his voice.

"Yeah, I know, I mean...I was just wondering if you get flustered all the time. That's all." She was still smiling, not even the least embarrassed that she'd asked him such a personal question. Or that she'd just admitted to thinking about him and sex. At least she hadn't told him that in her mind it had been _her_ bra he was fumbling on.

"Or is it just the talking that gets you, you know? Seriously, you don't turn redder than cherries during four-play, do you? I bet you _fumble_, don't you?" She snickered as she finished asking. He frowned.

"First, what would you know about four-play," he started, anger swelling into his voice as he looked at her. But, as she tilted her head to watch him, she could see just a slight hint of a crease in his lips. They were slightly turned upward and she knew he was amused.

"Secondly, it really is none of your business what I do during four-play," She gave him credit for managing to say four-play without turning scarlet. "And thirdly, where did that thought come from?"

"I know plenty about four-play, we've already established that it's really none of my business, and I have no idea." She smiled lightly at him, placing one of the papers she'd already reviewed in the green folder that signified it was finished.

"Why didn't you let me read over that first?" He questioned, momentarily forgetting their conversation. "And, if you're going to be thinking about me having sex, at least have a legitimate reason next time or don't bring it up in normal conversation."

"No conversation with you is normal." She shrugged that off, rolling her eyes. "And if you're going to read over every single review before I put it in this folder then you don't really need me. You can just do it all yourself Mr. President."

He didn't think now was the time to tell her he found the fact that she'd just called him 'Mr. President' highly attractive. Instead he said, "You know, when you were asking me that insane question you called me Trunks."

"So?" She sounded slightly defensive.

"So nothing. I've just noticed that, when you're most comfortable with me, you forget the San."

"Do I?" She was picking out another paper.

"You do. And I thought you weren't going to work if I didn't."

"You're so lazy, Mr. President, that I don't know how you still have a job." There it goes again, he thought absently.

"My dad was sleeping with the boss before I got this gig." He mused, getting more comfortable on the couch.

"Whom, I bet, just happens to be your mother. Yeah right." She played along. "Some people just get everything the easy way." She was shaking her head absently as she made a couple of marks on the paper.

"This I get from Hercule Satan's grand daughter. The man who's credited for saving the world. Oh, and you just happen to be the daughter of the guy who actually saved it. Imagine."

"Oh shove it." She threw the paper into the green envelope, rolling her eyes.

"You didn't let me see that one either."

"Why don't you pull up a chair and breathe down my neck the entire time I do each paper, _by myself_."

He also didn't think it was the time to tell her how many other things he'd like to do to her neck. Or that he thought the fact that she got so upset, so easily, over the littlest things was a slight turn on for him. No, it definitely wasn't the time. It was vastly inappropriate. But then, so was the fact that she thought he _fumbled_ around during four-play. He'd like to show her exactly how talented he actually was.

"Or, you could just come over here and sit on the floor under me so I won't have to move." He didn't like where his mind went when he suggested that Pan do anything 'under him' on the floor. _That_ thought was more than inappropriate. It was against everything in him to be behaving this way inside his head. He wasn't seventeen, for Dende's sake.

She sighed loudly, once again rolling her eyes. "Fine, you big control freak. If you have to see everything I do or you'll whine about it. But don't really breathe on me, makes me sick." With butterflies, she silently amended, making her way over to the floor in front of his chair. He smirked at how easily she had been manipulated into that.

"Give me that folder you're not working on." She commanded, holding her hand out. He handed it to her, laying down near her head so that he could peer over her shoulder as she began to read. "You know how much this job sucks?" She asked after a second of silence. This time _he _sighed.

"Aren't we supposed to be working, not complaining, Ms. Son?" He teased, moving his hand to let his fingers capture a lock of her hair in between them. He ran the pads of his thumb and pointer finger across the wavy strands, not paying much attention to what he was doing.

"Yeah well, it's not my fault this job blows."

Another sexual reference, he thought, and he was bound to ravish her. He closed his eyes for a second to fight the urge, but as he did so his senses seem to loom in on the feel of her silky-smooth hair between his fingers. He wondered if the rest of her was just as soft. Her head leaning back into the caress was as good as permission to find out as his hand moved from her hair to the piece of her neck exposed due to the fact that he'd had to move her hair in order to play with it.

He lightly glazed his finger over the skin, scooting out further on the chair so that he was closer to her, running his fingers smoothly down her neck and not missing the fact that she had closed her eyes when he did it. So, he wasn't the only one that thought it was completely wrong that he hadn't been touching her all along. That was a good thing to know.

He pushed the rest of her hair back, closing his own eyes as he tried to pretend that he didn't want to do more than graze her skin. But he did. He really, really did. She was as soft as her hair, maybe slightly softer, and everywhere his skin landed on hers was like fire. Her flesh was so hot it was amazing. If nothing else about her could have turned him on, that certainly would have.

Her breathing increased as his fingers slid down her throat, landing on her pulse. It was much faster than normal but he was sure his was as well, so he didn't bother to smirk.

"Trunks," She spoke, the name coming out like a question though her voice was slightly airy, slightly heavy. "What are you..." She didn't finish the question because he'd placed a feather light kiss on the side of her face, slightly lower than her chin. Instead she sat up further, moving her body so that he wouldn't have to lean so far down to reach her. The papers dropped, forgotten.

He kissed her again, slightly lower but just as softly. She got up on her knees, closing her eyes as he continued, kissing her again. A softly spilled gasp escaped her throat as his head went down again, he'd hit a very sensitive area, but she liked that. He moved his head back as she slightly pulled her body up, getting onto the couch with him.

Trunks sat up, not bothering to analyze what he was doing as he pulled Pan's body close to his, tilting her neck to continue his exploration. "Was it here that made you gasp?" He whispered, his own voice throaty but silky smooth as he lowered his lips again. She answered him with a small moan, her lids instantly getting heavy again.

"Don't," She gasped out, trying to form her sentence completely. "Don't. That... Don't do that." She quickly changed her sentence as his lips pressed harder on her skin, making lava flow through her stomach as she moved into him. His mouth opened over her, his cool tongue sweeping onto her hot skin, as she amended her sentence. "Hmm, _do that_." She consented, melting into his arms.

He moved his head up to repeat the treatment on her chin, then the back of her neck. "Do this?" He whispered as he moved towards her ear. He nibbled the lobe as he asked the question, feeling her shiver in his arms. He liked that. And he liked the fact that she tasted so good. Like warm candy, hot chocolate perhaps. "Hmm?" He stopped, keeping his face close to her ear. "I didn't hear your answer."

She frowned at him as she nodded her head, moving her hands to push his face back onto hers. "Yes, yes," She mumbled, half dazed, her voice cracking. "Do that, don't stop."

Satisfied, he allowed her to move his head back towards her ear, smirking to himself as he kissed under it lightly, pulling her closer to him still. When he felt her body press close to his, her turning herself so that she faced him, he got more interested in kissing places that kissed back. His lips met hers before she could protest, leading her into a fiery kiss fueled by passion and driven by frenzy.

Her mouth didn't open against his at first, it took some coaxing on his behalf. Lucky for him he was very talented in the area and didn't let her slight resistance sway him. He nibbled gently on her bottom lip and, when she still didn't open her mouth, he drew that lip into his own mouth and sucked very lightly.

Her eyes drifted to the top of her head as she fought, unsuccessfully, against the moan that wanted to escape her throat. When the moan won, so did Trunks, his tongue sweeping into her daringly, drinking her as if he were dying of thirst. She responded accordingly, she had known that she would and that was why she didn't want to let him in. Her hands slid into his hair as she pulled him down, guiding his body to follow hers.

Neither of them noticed that the office door had been left open. Neither one of them looked up to see the blue haired woman standing in that same doorway staring at them, eyes wide open, brain ticking strategically, calculatingly deciding something. But both of them caught on when she cleared her throat and stated very pointedly,

"I hate to interrupt but, Trunks, baby, you've got a meeting to attend in three minutes. Wouldn't be enough time to finish this...I hope." She winked at Pan as the girl pulled her head away from Trunks' quickly, her entire face washed over with red. Trunks, however, looked strikingly calm. It must have shocked Pan because she eyed him strangely before she buried her face in her hands.

"Mother, don't you knock anymore?" He questioned, voice still husky as he moved off of, and away from, Pan. "The warning would have been nice, you know."

"Door was open," Bulma responded, not missing a beat. "So next time I suggest you use the lock, that is what it's for - keeping people out. And, should there be a next time I mean, make sure you've actually got enough time to do it." She rolled her eyes at her son, turning around and walking out as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"Your mother catch you like that a lot?" Pan questioned curiously, noticing Bulma's calm demeanor, her face still hidden beneath her hands from shock and embarrassment, eyes peeping through the holes her fingers as she asked.

"Not lately," Trunks smirked. "And, anyway, you're the one that wanted to know if I fumbled during four-play. Satisfied now?" He straightened his tie and jacket before shooting her one of his very charming smiles, winking, and walking out of the office door. He shut it firmly behind him, letting his head beat quietly against it as he cursed himself silently.

What the hell had he been thinking?

On the other side of the door, Pan still sat on the couch. She pulled her hands away from her face and swore out loud, throwing her body back onto the couch. What the hell had she been thinking?

_To be continued..._


	8. Something, Anything

Rainwater  
Chapter 7: Something, Anything   
Rating: R for sexual situations and suggestions, adult topics and language.  
_WitchyPrincess_

_Something, Anything_

_The biggest lies ever told start with "Some day I..." and "One day we..." It's automatic flashing red lights that whatever's coming next is never going to happen. Seriously, who believes promises like that anymore? Everyone knows 'someday' is nothing but a link between today and a day that doesn't exist. And 'one day' is just as bad. _

_So why is it that I'm constantly telling myself those exact phrases? Knowing what I know and not believing that 'someday' or 'one day' exists, why would I put myself through the torture of a promise I never intended to keep? Why would I tell myself I'm going to do something and never do it?_

_And who am I kidding? I know why. _

_For the comfort of the situation. People say 'someday' because they don't want to admit they never will. They say 'one day' because they don't want to say 'it'll never happen'. But that's what it really means. And I'm no different. _

_I like to pretend things will be better. Things will change. That some day, he is going to love me. And one day we will be happy. But the difference between my 'some days' and 'one days' and everyone else's is I know, when I say it, that it probably won't happen. Except, this time, knowing that I'd have someone else to look to when things got rough, someone else to talk to about the burden, I really expected it to work..._

_–Bra Briefs_  
#######

Bra examined the blue sweat pants quietly, thinking to herself. There were a million things shooting through her head that she was trying to block out. Namely New York. And Goten.

Life had changed so much for her in the last four years it was amazing the things she had learned. She had fought hard for her independence, had hopped on a plane and traveled to New York without a second thought; but when she'd gotten there she'd discovered things weren't as great as she imagined they would be. Dreams never seem to pan out as wonderfully as people imagine they will.

Everything was just as cold, just as distant. It was still hard to live without him, still hard knowing he loved someone else. Millions of miles and an ocean away, and she still couldn't get him out of her head. She'd tried everything and nothing had worked. And then her parents had declared her independence over and forced her to return home. Return to his observant gaze and confused anger because she'd left him out of something he considered important to him; she'd left him out of her life.

So many things were the same, yet so many things were different now.

She rubbed her fingers lightly over the tattoo on her back, resting on her hip line seductively. She still didn't know what had possessed her to get that tattoo, but she didn't regret it. She liked it. It reminded her of her family and her friends, while she was away.

And in all honesty, it had reminded her of Goten. It was as close as she'd ever get to branding his name on her body. There was a dragon centered on her hips, floating in the sky, its tail wrapped around a cloud - Nimbus. There were dragon-balls scattered around the clouds and dragon, the five star ball was directly in the middle.

When she first decided that she wanted to get a tattoo, she had wanted to find something cute and feminine. A white flower that represented hope, or a butterfly the symbolized freedom. Maybe a shooting star to exemplify her dreams. But, when it came down to it and she was sitting in the chair, she changed her mind. She decided that she wanted Shenlong instead, and when she thought about it he did represent all those things.

After all, he was magic dragon that could grant you nearly any wish. And it was everything her family and friends was built on. What drew them together and kept them close. The reason they fought, the reason they searched and bonded. It just seemed appropriate that Shenlong be the one on her back instead of some corny flower. So she'd had it done and she never regretted it.

Bra smiled, drifting out of her thoughts and pulling on the blue sweat pants. Pan was going to be here in three minutes, Bra had never known the girl to be late when there was fighting involved. Of course, that could have something to do with the fact that Vegita would have disowned Pan if she'd showed up even a minute late for practice with him. She was that man's pride and joy and she knew it.

That was why it was so startling to find out that Pan hadn't been over the entire time Bra was away. Surely it had nothing to do with the fact that Bra had left, as Bra had established with Pan the last time they talked, Bra had been a real bitch to the girl. So the lack of her would seem to have done Pan a favor. Yet...no Pan. Bra wondered why.

Perhaps it had something to do with Trunks. They did seem abnormally uncomfortable with each other. And Pan had called Trunks an 'ass' the last time she talked about him. And she was calling him 'Trunks-San'. When did that happen? Ever since Pan could understand that 'San' was a form of reverence, given to elders and not close friends, she'd been leaving it off of Trunks' name. Why had she suddenly added it back, when she was old enough to not say it anymore? It all sounded slightly odd to Bra. Not to mention the way Pan had kept hinting that Trunks was gay. The younger Pan would have been insulted by the mere insinuation, but this Pan had outright said that he was. Bra smiled lightly, shaking her head.

Bra would find out soon enough. Once she and Pan established a real relationship, the kind that students developed with their teachers, and started to trust each other, Pan would share what she wanted to share. Especially since Trunks was Bra's brother, and no one knew the boy better than Bra. Besides, Bra knew that Pan still wanted Trunks. She had to, no one could get over something they had felt that strongly about. Bra knew this from experience.

She shook the thoughts away as she heard the doorbell ring, running out of her room before anyone had the chance to open the door. That way she'd be standing there when Pan walked in and the girl couldn't accuse her of being late.

Bra adjusted the white tank-top she was wearing, straightening her shoulders as she walked into the living room, expecting to see Pan. But it wasn't Pan and who she saw instead made her head spin. It was Goten. And not just any Goten, a ready-to-kick-someone's-ass Goten. He had on a black wife beater and loose blue sweat pants. Bra could see half of his chest and the rippling muscles of his arms as he stood there, looking at her with the same confused, astonishingly blank look on his face.

"You're not Pan." Bra told him seriously. He nodded his head dumbly, apparently not really hearing her because he seemed too busy with something else. She couldn't tell what though. He was just..._staring _at her. Finally,

"You're not Trunks." He acknowledged, shaking his head. "You're definitely not Trunks." He shook his head again, licking his lips and finally pulling that smile she was so used to out of his memory. Only, it was slightly different...she couldn't point out why. Maybe because there was a slight smirk to it.

"You were going to fight, weren't you?" Bra asked him, slightly crestfallen. "See, I didn't know. Pan's meeting me here and she thinks we've got the GR. I mean, I even got daddy to give us his normal training time and..." He cut her off, a sparkle glittering somewhere deep in his eyes.

"_You're_ going to train?" There was laughter hidden behind that question that ignited all kinds of indignant fires inside of her. She straightened her shoulders, poked out her chest - which caused him to gulp and wipe that ridiculous smile off his face - and rolled her eyes.

"Don't say it like that. Like I'm not half Saiyan." She wanted to pout but didn't, she gave him a death glare instead. He laughed softly, shaking his head and throwing his hands up in a peace offering.

"I'm...I'm sorry, Bra, I was just shocked." He was grinning again, obviously trying not to laugh.

"Well, you can just mosey right back to your little apartment because you're not getting the GR." She crossed her arms and leaned the weight of her body on one hip, glaring dangerously.

"Relax, sweetheart." He winked at her. She was sure her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. She tried to calm the party her molecules started having at the mere action. "Trunks and I are just going to do a bit of sparring." Her eyes narrowed again, she was giving him a mean glare when he added, "In the back yard. Next to the woods." When she didn't ease the death glare he said, "_Outside _of the GR." Finally, she smiled.

"Yeah, right. Trunks hasn't done 'a bit of sparring' in...years." She had considered counting how many years it had been but changed her mind, not having enough patience to think that far back. "Why would he, out of the blue, call you up and want to spar?"

"I don't know," Goten told her, his eyes still laughing at her as he spoke. "Why would you ask Pan?"

"Maybe I needed to exercise a little frustration." She clenched her fists.

"Yeah, well maybe he did too." He responded lightly.

"Or maybe not." She challenged needlessly. He did laugh then.

"Fine, maybe not B-Chan."

She paused, forcing her mouth to stay closed and not drop open in anger. She hated that she could look like _this_, hair pulled back into a part pony-tail part bun, form fitting sweat pants, small white tank top that didn't cover her stomach completely and showed off the tattoo on her back, and he could still call her 'B-Chan'. How childish was that name? And why did it always remind her of her place? And where the hell was Pan, she was _late_.

It was Trunks that walked in when she thought that. Bra eyed him curiously, going over his features with hawk-like precision. On first glance he looked normal, smiling lightly, hair combed, fighting gear on. But upon closer inspection he looked like crap. Only the kind of crap a sister would notice, of course. His eyes had gray bags under them that _never_ existed, no matter how much he worked. His hands were shaking and his smile was plastered on. An unearthly sort of eerie. Also, his eyes weren't shining in even the slightest. They usually lit up a little, at least.

He turned those blue eyes on her, curiosity in his stare as he lifted a lavender eyebrow. "Why do you look so...revealing? Please put on a bigger..._everything_, you're distracting my upchuck reaction."

"Oh, go shove off, I'm waiting for Pan. We're supposed to spar today." Bra responded, eyes narrowed again though she wasn't really upset. Coming from her brother, that meant she looked hot.

"Pan called you to spar, too?" For some reason, he seemed amused by this, like Goten had been. Bra's nostrils started to flare as she took defensive mode.

"Why did you say it like that? Like Pan couldn't possibly want to spar with _me_? What are you trying to say, Trunks, that no one," Goten interrupted her, an annoyed anger lighting his own eyes.

"He didn't say 'Pan called _you _to spar?', Bra. He said, 'Pan called you to spar _too_'." Goten seemed to be thinking hard about something as Bra let this sink in, realizing that Goten was right. "What do you mean, Trunks?" Goten continued, as if he knew something everyone else didn't. Suspicious and accusing at the same time. "Do you know something that we don't? Did something happen with you and Pan?" Trunks blushed. Bra rolled her eyes.

"We've had this scheduled since Sunday, you know. And she's late." Bra tapped her feet on the floor, glaring from her brother to Goten, getting the feeling that she knew perfectly well what was going on but not wanting to let Goten interfere. Obviously Trunks and Pan had had a fight recently and now Trunks thought she was taking her frustrations out on Bra. What with the way those two had went at each other's throats on Sunday, Bra wouldn't be surprised if that's exactly what had happened. _And_ she wouldn't be surprised if that was why Pan was late also; the girl didn't want to have to face Trunks.

But this wasn't about Trunks, Bra thought with a small whine. This was about her, and the rest of her life. How could Pan ignore that? How crummy of Pan to consider not showing up, despite Bra nearly begging her to. Even if she didn't want to be here, the least she could do was put aside her own personal feelings to keep her promise to Bra. And, cold fear ran over Bra, as she considered that maybe Pan wouldn't show up at all because of it. What if she changed her mind? Bra closed her eyes, trying hard not to think of it as she heard one of them leave the room and walk towards the back, out the door.

It must have been Trunks because after a moment she heard Goten say, "You know, I haven't seen you without all that make-up on since you were fourteen. You've really got a beautiful face." She didn't open her eyes because she was sure, if she did, that she'd blush from head to toe. Instead she let her lips curve into a slight smile of appreciation as she nodded her head.

"Thank-you." She managed, voice slightly raspy as she pushed the sound out. When she heard his footsteps follow Trunks' she opened her eyes, all the blood rushing to her cheeks. Had he just practically called _her _beautiful? She certainly thought so.

As that thought rung through her head, the door was pushed open and Pan showed her own self to the living room. Bra didn't even bother to frown at the girl for being late, she felt as if she were lighter than a feather at that moment. Pan had decided to come after all. And Goten was all ready warming up to her. This was going to work, it had to. He'd be in love with her in no time—or at least he'd be interested.

Meanwhile, the girl that had rushed into her house, stopped a few centimeters in front of Bra, her face flushed. She had the same gray spots under her eyes that Trunks was sporting. She also looked a mess at second observations, though she passed first without a hitch. Her hair was pulled back into a proper bun, as though she'd spent extra time on it, she was wearing orange-flared cotton pants and a white shirt that caught her curves wonderfully. And if Bra hadn't been looking for distress she wouldn't have found it anywhere in Pan's countenance. But Pan's hands were shaking as well, when she gave Bra a sideways look that was silently begging for forgiveness.

"It's okay," Bra smiled lightly, almost beaming. "I know about you and Trunks and I thought you weren't going to show." Pan's face paled at least two shades as she backed up, her expression turning sour.

"You know?!" She looked horrified as bits of pink pressed behind the skin of her cheeks. Was she about to blush? "Who told you? Bulma? What exactly do you know? Did _he_ say something about me, because it's not true! I'm not anything _he_ says I am. I didn't know...I mean I knew it was just a joke...And, anyway, I wouldn't decide not to go anywhere simply because that jackass," Bra cut her off, her clear-blue eyes getting large. Pan was calling her brother an 'ass' again, at least Bra assumed she meant Trunks. And she was incredibly riled for some reason.

"Relax Pan, no one told me." The older girl smiled happily, giving Pan a reassuring pat on the shoulders. "I just figured. The way you two are always all over each other, at each other's throats and stuff, I just,"

"We are not!" Pan seemed disgusted, perfectly slandered. She shook her head to ward off the image, Bra laughed.

"Yes you are, don't even try to play it off." This time she was sure Pan blushed. "Look, it's cool Pan. I mean, I don't know why you have such a strong distaste for my brother but," she shrugged. "As long as you keep to killing him in the office and not in front of me, I don't care. So, did my mother walk in on you two while you were fighting or something? Is that why you thought she told me?"

"Fighting?" Pan asked apprehensively, smiling slightly as if something were incredibly amusing. "Well, she...um, walked in on us, yes." Pan nodded, her eyes lighting as she seemed to visibly relax. Bra shrugged, wondering what that was all about.

"Anyways, Trunks must be upset about it because he and Goten are sparring right now. But don't worry, we've still got the GR." This seemed to make Pan upset again. Or incredibly uncomfortable. Bra wondered what was going on with the girl. Shouldn't she be happy if Trunks was upset? If she had managed to drive Trunks to distraction? Didn't they hate each other now? Wasn't that the deal?

"So, anyway, what was just a joke?" Bra tried to make casual conversation as they headed out into the GR. She didn't want to look at Goten, to be distracted by Goten.

"Huh?" Pan questioned, her thoughts obviously somewhere else.

"When you were talking about what happened with you and Trunks, frantically, might I add, you said you didn't know it was just a joke. Or you did know...one of them?" Bra shook her head. "What was a joke?"

"What, Bra?" Pan asked again, still not listening. Her eyes were trained to the sky, obviously watching what Bra had convinced herself she didn't want to look for. But there they were, Trunks and Goten, fighting as if it had only been yesterday. Bra lost her train of thought and both she and Pan walked over to the GR in silence.

#######

For some reason, Bulma was sitting at the kitchen table waiting for Pan when she and Bra were through training. Trunks had already stopped fighting to get ready for work, Pan noticed though she didn't really want to. She had been trying to clear her mind of Trunks, not wonder where he was going and what he was doing.

How dare that jerk take advantage of her attraction to him simply to prove he didn't fumble during four-play. She felt...angry and confused. They had an incredible attraction to one another, not even he could deny that, and now she was wondering how she was going to face him ever again. She wasn't stupid enough to think he hadn't felt just as hot for her while he was proving his point, but she still felt used just the same.

Especially since he had told her, under no uncertain terms, four years ago that he would never be interested in her. Now she just didn't know what to think, what to believe. She didn't know what was going on with them, except that she wanted him, a lot, and he seemed to share the feeling. But he'd said, hadn't he, that he was just proving a point. So that was why he'd done it. As for her, she had enjoyed every single moment of it.

She'd betrayed herself, forgotten that she was supposed to hate him, and that was the worst thing that could have happened to her. How could she lose herself like that around him? Clearly, she couldn't be alone with him again; at least, she'd have to keep her defenses up when she was with him. Now that she knew he was not totally against touch her, taking advantage of her would be easy for him to do.

And now she was going to have to explain what happened to Bulma. What could be more embarrassing than talking to the mother of the guy you'd just been caught fooling around with about what happened? At this moment, as Bulma told Bra that she'd like to have a few minutes alone with Pan to 'talk', she couldn't think of anything.

Bra gave Pan a sympathizing look, assuming it was about the 'fight' Bulma had walked in on, presumably. Pan wanted to grab Bra's hand and tell her not to go away. She wanted to run with Bra and never speak to Bulma again. But, more than any of those things, she wanted the floor to simply open up and swallow her whole. This was so horrifying.

"Are you sure this can't wait, Bulma? I've got to," Pan cringed at the thought, "Be in the office in an hour. Couldn't we talk about this some other time?" She questioned once she and Bulma were alone together.

"Certainly it can wait, Pan." The girl almost smiled with her relief, but she had a feeling there was a catch to Bulma's words. "But for how long? When would we both have the time? Besides, you're here now." Bulma waved towards the dinning chair opposite hers, silently telling Pan to sit.

"Is this about yesterday? Because, I know what it looked like, but honestly Bulma-San, I," But Bulma cut her off, a pleased smile curving onto her beautiful face. She reached up and pulled her glasses off, leaning across the table to look at Pan directly, her deep blue eyes boring into the girl.

"You don't need to be uncomfortable, Pan. The last thing I'm going to do is lecture you. In fact, what I had to say was quite the opposite." Her voice held a teasing air to it as she said this. Pan gulped with confusion, looking behind her to make sure they were completely alone even though she knew they were. She could scan people's ki after all.

"Well, you weren't going to _praise_ me for what happened...were you?" There was a sliver of terror in her voice as she asked, hoping that Bulma would say that her suggestion was ridiculous. She didn't.

"Pan, I think now's the perfect time to have this discussion." She ignored the question all together, as if Pan hadn't even asked it.

"What discussion is that?"

"Do you love my son?" She ignored Pan's question again. The young girl choked on her own saliva as Bulma asked the question.

"What? What would make you think I _loved_ him? I mean...okay, I know what would make you think that but...Well, Bulma-San, sex and love are two completely different things these days. It's not like when you were,"

"Pan," Bulma warned, her face slightly amused as she interrupted. "If you're about to finish that with something along the lines of 'it's not like it was in your day', don't. I am perfectly aware of the difference between sex and love, trust me." Bulma tried not to snicker as she closed her eyes, the urge overwhelming her willpower.

"I don't mean to sound crude or like a slut but...Well, what you saw wasn't love, Bulma."

"You haven't answered my question. I asked if _you_ loved my son. Not if I was witnessing some profession of that love. Tell me the truth Pan, I already know the answer."

"What makes you think I'm in love with your son? Why would you assume that,"

"Darling, why would you assume that I meant I already knew you loved him? Perhaps I already knew you didn't?"

"Well...what's the purpose of this anyway?" Pan tried to find some solid ground in this conversation. She was confused as hell.

"I simply wanted to be sure. And now I am." Bulma nodded, smiling again. Pan raised a suspicious eyebrow.

"What are you sure of?"

"You do love my son." There was satisfaction in her voice as she answered.

"Why would you think so?"

"I already told you. You assumed I meant I already knew you _did_ love him. You answered my question without even realizing it."

"So, now you're a psychologist? Maybe I only assumed that's what you meant because everyone else thinks I do. Or maybe,"

"Pan, it's okay. I want you to love him."

"Why would you want me to love someone that I could never have?" Pan asked without meaning to, not able to stop herself in time. But she was just slightly outraged by Bulma's admission.

"Because yesterday I became quite sure that you're what he needs. And you're obviously what he wants." She winked at the girl as she finished, catching the red that crept up her neck.

"Yesterday was a mistake that won't happen again." Pan stated firmly.

"No doubt he'll be giving you the same lecture in," Bulma looked down at her watch. "About forty minutes. But for now, why don't we drop our guards and be honest with each other?"

"What is it you're waiting for me to say, then?"

"I want you to say that, being perfectly honest, if you had your choice yesterday would have been the beginning of lots of 'mistakes'."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because I'm going to tell you how to get your way. You love my son and when you're through with him, if you listen to me, he'll love you too."

"Why would you do that for me?" Pan asked, not bothering to correct the woman. If Bulma wanted to think she was in love with Trunks, that was fine. Whatever.

"Because my children need something that I don't know how to give them. And I think I just figured out what it was." Silently Bulma added, _You. You shake up their lives and make them smile. Moments ago I just saw my daughter happier than she's ever been. And yesterday I saw the life shining in my son's eyes. They need you, Pan, and I'm going to give you to them._

"And you think I'm going to give it to Trunks?"

"Once he falls in love, his life will be so much better than it's been. It would make everyone happy. So, are you interested?"

"In loving your son?" _No_, Pan thought, nearly shaking her head. _No, I'm not interested. But I'm plenty interested in him loving me..._

"In being in love."

"Tell me what to do."

She didn't, instead she changed the subject again. "Do you know about how Vegita and I fell I love?" She waited until Pan shook her head 'no' before she continued. "He was staying at Capsule to train and fight the androids."

"I know, Bulma. He stayed for three years and somehow you two fell in love and you got pregnant. But then he went into space to become a Super-Saiyan and when he came back he had to fight the androids, but he finally got back to be with you and Trunks. I know all about that. I thought you were going to tell me the real story."

"I am. But what makes you think that's not the real story?"

"He leaves you pregnant to go and become Super? I mean, come on, he's not Goku, Vegita's always cared more for his family than fighting."

Bulma burst into a fit of laughter. "No, he hasn't. Goku loved his family a million times more than Vegita ever did. That was why Vegita thought Goku was so weak, because his family was his weakness."

"Gohan was his weakness. He had no qualms about leaving the rest of us behind. Every chance he got."

"Oh, Pan,"

"Don't, finish your story."

"Right," Bulma quickly nodded, knowing not to get too heavy into discussion of Goku. She could only defend him so much. "Anyway, Vegita and I hated each other. We fought and insulted each other every chance we got."

"Not much has changed." Pan smirked as Bulma nodded.

"Yeah, and it probably never will. But that's not the point. The point is, Vegita didn't fall in love with me during those three years. And he went to space because he didn't want to be with me."

"But...Trunks...born...And you two were..."

"Yeah, Pan. But weren't you the one that told me sex and love didn't go hand in hand? Sex, Pan, is sex. It can happen without love, but you were wrong about them not going hand in hand. Eventually..." She let the thought linger, not finishing. "Vegita wasn't going to come back to me. It was future Trunks that ultimately changed his mind, I believe. Seeing what his son could be. But in the future, he never came back."

"Maybe he would have if he hadn't died. Maybe he did love you in both time lines."

"Maybe he did, Pan." But her eyes were telling Pan she didn't believe it. The young girl tilted her head, studying the woman closely.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because Vegita didn't love me. He didn't even like me. But he came back. And Trunks is not nearly as cold as Vegita was then. Do you see?" There was tense silence for a moment before Pan's eyes widened.

"Are you telling me to sleep with Trunks? Even _if _I would consider that, it wouldn't work. I doubt I could even make him _want_ me, much less love me."

"He already wants you. And I'm not _telling _you to do anything. I'm simply saying that..." Bulma stood up, straightening her designer shirt and pulling her shoulders back, putting her glasses back on. "You'd be amazed what sex can do to change a man's heart."

Pan sat there dumbly for a few minutes after Bulma walked away, her mouth slightly open. She couldn't believe what she'd just heard. Bulma was _condoning _such behavior from her? It went against everything she knew, everything she'd been taught. How could that woman tell her to do something like that? And, worse yet, how could she be considering it?

She must have sat with her mouth open for three minutes before she felt Trunks' ki approaching the kitchen. He paused when he saw her, nearly turning around and heading back in the other direction. But for some reason he turned back around, a determined look on his face. He cleared his throat nervously, a slight smirk pressing his lips.

"Are you mad at me, Pan?" When she blinked but didn't respond, and didn't close her mouth, he said, "Listen, I...well, I shouldn't have...Okay, I'm sorry. Are you happy, now?"

Her mouth stayed open, her eyes blinked again.

"_Fine_." He consented to her silence. "You don't have to come back to the office if you don't want to."

Still, silence.

"Pan...say something..._anything_. Are you okay?"

Something, anything. She could walk away right now. She could turn around and pretend she hadn't heard Bulma. Pretend like there wasn't a small chance that she could seduce Trunks and make him love her. And then, then she could...Say something, anything, Pan. She told herself.

"I'll see you in thirty minutes, okay." She smiled easily at him, getting up slowly and straightening her shirt as she walked towards him. "Oh, and don't worry about yesterday." She casually ran her hand across his cheek as she shook her head. Then, ignoring his shocked expression, she walked past him and out of the kitchen.

She couldn't believe she was going to do this.

_To be continued..._

sidenote to **Ryuzuki: **thank-you for pointing out the "four-play/ foreplay" fiasco. I did not know that - or, rather, I didn't pay much attention to it - and I sincerely appreciate the correction. I love it when you guys listen to my pleas.

To the rest of you, I am honestly pleased with the exceptional response that I've been recieving for this story even though I haven't updated NSN yet. I'd like to tell you that an update is on it's way but I'll just have to be honest here: I can't make myself write that story - no matter _what _I try. I'm so sorry, but I haven't stopped trying. I don't intend to. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this installment of Rainwater. (And I hope there weren't _too_ many mistakes because I didn't do the usual read-through. Life has been a bit busy this week. Sorry.)


	9. Nearly Perfect

Rainwater  
Chapter 8: Nearly Perfect  
Rating: R for sexual situations and suggestions, adult topics and language.  
_WitchyPrincess_

_Nearly Perfect_

_You know that feeling? That unexplained rush that you get when you're excited about something? Like, when you're a little kid and you just have to have that one toy that everybody else got last week. You can't live without it - you won't live without it. And so you beg and you plead, you cry, you whine, you pout. You make such a fuss about that one thing that you wanted, that you just had to have, and then when you get it...Well, you know what happens don't you? You play with it for a while and then you drop it in the closet somewhere because you can't stand the thing._

_Your parents told you that you wouldn't want it when you had it, they warned you, and yet you can't fight off the feeling of despair that makes you drop the stupid thing. The once oh-so-wonderful something that brought you never ending joy just thinking about, then became the bane of your existence. Because you were far too stubborn to admit that you didn't want it anymore. And even if you didn't want it, you wouldn't give it to the cousin that wouldn't stop eyeing it, because it's yours. It belongs to you. And you'd be damned if you shared anything you had to work so hard to get. Why couldn't they get their own and leave yours alone? _

_Yeah, that's kind of what it was like with him. I had begged and pleaded and worked damned hard to make him notice me so long ago. And even if I didn't want to play with him now, I sure as hell didn't want someone else to come along and take my hard earned toy. That's why her words meant something to me. That's why I thought I could do it, that I figured I should at least try. That's why I went back when I shouldn't have. You understand, don't you? He had rejected me. I couldn't move on until he felt that feeling. Until he knew that pain. And I wanted to be the one to break him, no one else._

_–Pan Son  
_#######

The art of seduction. Pan had been acquainted with it ever since she was seventeen; Marron and Bra had taken it upon themselves to educate her on what men wanted. Of course, she didn't pay much attention to what they'd told her at the time, and now she was more than glad she hadn't. Most of it had been a load to make a fool out of her.

They had a bet going to see if she tried the moves on Trunks within the next month. Marron had said she would but she would get them wrong, and Bra had said she would and she would get them right. She hadn't at all, and Pan was glad they'd both lost. Except, now she was actually going to try and seduce someone.

Why was she doing this again? She thought, twisting her face into confusion. She didn't want to be with Trunks, and she didn't want to be interested in him either. The last thing she wanted was to love him. But then she remembered that she wanted, very badly, for _Trunks _to love _her_.

She wanted to lure him into her web, she wanted to trap him there and then devour his soul. She'd been looking, for years, for a way to try and ease the pain he'd caused her. To regain her pride and save her face. To get revenge. And now she'd found that way, a way to make him suffer. To make him pay, to break him.

Just the thought that it might possibly work made her smile inside. He'd be humiliated, but more than that, he'd be hurt. And she'd be vindicated. It was perfect. Well, nearly. There was still that chance that he might, just maybe, get under her skin. If only slightly.

Pan brushed the thoughts aside as she opened Trunks' office door, drawing in a deep breath and putting on her brightest smile. She knew what she had to do. And, fortunately, she knew Trunks well enough to know just how to do it. She just still couldn't believe she was going to.

#######

He wasn't sure exactly what was wrong with him, but clearly something was. Today was about five times worse than yesterday, and yesterday he'd nearly screwed her on his couch. She didn't seem bothered in the least bit, though. In fact, she seemed...more comfortable today than she had yesterday. And maybe that was why it was worse.

Yesterday she had been glaring at him and insulting him. Today she was being _nice_. Was there something that he'd missed? Maybe this was her way of telling him that he couldn't get to her? That he couldn't affect her emotions. Well, that sure wasn't true, he thought arrogantly. Was it? He frowned a little at the thought, subconsciously noticing the way she bit down softly on her lower lip when she was thinking. It was sexy.

He was supposed to be thinking about whatever she was thinking about as well, they had been discussing something, but he couldn't remember what it was. Or he hadn't been paying attention in the first place and he didn't know what they were talking about at all. Whichever it was, he hoped she solved her own problem, because he couldn't explain that the reason he hadn't come up with a solution was because he'd been too busy thinking about why he found her so damn attractive.

"Pan," He finally interrupted her train of thought, not able to withstand another second of where his brain had been camping out. "Can we take a break? Aren't you hungry or something?"

"Take a break?" She frowned, giving him a slight glare. There was the Pan he was looking for, had been expecting. "You haven't done anything today, Trunks. If I didn't know better I'd say you were just trying to make my life more miserable by the second. You're keeping me here on purpose, aren't you?"

"What are you talking about?" He asked a little too defensively, not noticing her teasing smile. "I told you earlier today that if you," Her laughing cut him off. He realized that she was only kidding and fought away his blush, letting himself smile instead.

"You're so touchy." She noted as she stood up, stretching her back out, throwing her arms up in the process. Trunks immediately closed his eyes. Her baby-blue t-shirt inched up her stomach when she did that, and _that_ was the last thing he needed to see. Why did he have to be such a guy? More importantly, why did she have to be in such great shape?

"Now that you mention it," She spoke as he reopened his eyes slowly. She was fully covered now and standing over him with a slight smile. "I am hungry. As long as you're paying, we can take a break. So what did you have in mind? Pizza?"

"Sure, pizza's fine with me. Have Mrs. Oryza order, will you?" He needed her to walk out of the room for a minute, he couldn't think. He didn't know what it was. Maybe how she was moving, or how close they had sat together. Maybe the way her eyes were teasing him, did she know she was doing that? Or her unintentional brushes against his. Maybe it was the way she was practically ignoring him. The way she acted as if nothing were different. Or maybe it was just the fact that he now knew how horribly fulfilling it was to touch her skin, to kiss her lips. Was he going insane?

He'd thought he could let this go. He'd thought that he would apologize to her and explain how they should never do something that stupid again. He had thought that he would tell her why something like this wasn't good for either of them, and that he had never meant to take advantage of her emotions towards him. He knew she was vulnerable when it came to him and he had completely ignored that because he wanted to kiss her. And that was no excuse to act on his thoughts.

Yet, every time she was near him, all that went out the window. He forgot that he wanted to tell her nothing should ever happen between them. He forgot that he wanted to apologize and explain. Hell, he forgot that he was 'sorry' at all. All he knew was that, wrong or right, he liked it. He damn near couldn't fight it. But he was trying so very hard. How was it possible that _Pan_ could do this to him? What had come over him?

She walked back in before he had a chance to consider the answer. It didn't really matter anyway, whatever the problem was, he was sure of the solution. He had to get as far away from her as possible. The distance would quell whatever strange emotions were rising inside him and he wouldn't have to overanalyze anything concerning him and Pan. Now, all he had to do was help her with these quarterlies. Then they'd never have to see each other again. And he did mean never.

The thought made him smile. He planned on being done before the end of the day.

#######

"If you look at me like that one more time, I'm going to break your neck." The voice was icy calm with the statement, clearly promising and not threatening.

"You can't break my neck, Pan." Trunks countered. "Not even if I let you. And, anyway, I don't know how you mean."

"You keep looking at me like you want to chuck me out that window. I haven't done anything to you." She sounded slightly frustrated as she made the statement, her voice taking on a defensive quality as she finished.

"You're imagining things." He shook it off, though he knew exactly what she was talking about. And he did want to throw her out the window. He just couldn't tell her that because then he'd have to tell her why. And that would just be too embarrassing, even for his standards. How do you tell a girl, fourteen years younger than you, that you just can't stop trying to picture her naked? Simple, you don't. You keep it to yourself.

"Oh, am I?" She challenged, raising an eyebrow in protest. "So, what do you call this face?" For a moment, as he watched her, nothing happened. Then her face scrunched up, her eyebrows welding together, nostrils flaring as she stared at him. Her eyes nearly closed as she appeared to be lost in thought. He couldn't help but laugh at how comical the expression looked on her delicate features.

"Exactly." She agreed with his laughter, as though proving her point somehow.

"Exactly what?"

"Exactly how I feel. You look ridiculous when you do that. Stop it now or I'll scream."

"I'm not doing it now. In fact, I doubt I was ever doing _that_. But, don't worry, if I was, it's been stopped. You have my word."

"I hate you." She pouted, angry with his sarcastic, teasing tone.

"Feeling's mutual, make no mistake about it." He responded automatically, trying not to smirk. Secretly, he liked the annoyance that danced across her face whenever he didn't get angry with her the way she wanted him to. He liked to watch her get riled up.

"Oh, would you shut up and read over that analysis I did? We're almost finished."

"You're the one that started the conversation." He challenged, not bothering to listen to her.

"Well, you're the one that won't let it die." She protested again.

"This," He wigged his finger back and forth between them, trying not to laugh. "Could take hours. You just have to get the last word, don't you?"

"I do not." She crossed her arms, pouting her perfect lips.

"See?" He pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

"That doesn't count. And neither does this," she continued when she saw him open his mouth to counter. "You asked questions, I merely answered them. I'm not asking a question now, am I?"

"Wasn't _that_ a question?"

"Drop dead." He chuckled and went back to the paper. The silence only lasted a couple of minutes before Pan sighed heavily and stretched back on the couch, yawning and giving Trunks the most bored expression she could muster. "Please _amuse_ me." She pleaded after he ignored her antics.

He groaned audibly, though he hadn't meant to. It wasn't his fault, she needed to watch her word choice sometimes. She really did not want him to 'amuse' her. On this couch. He didn't respond.

"Trunks-San." She pouted. He wanted to say, 'that's not my name,' but didn't. Another few minutes passed before, "Okay, I take it back, don't drop dead anymore."

"My name, Pan-Chan, is Trunks. Not Trunks-San, I'm not a hundred, you know." He couldn't fight back the words, they flew out of his mouth before he could inhibit them.

"You mean, that after twenty-one years of you correcting my use of just plain 'Trunks', now you're telling me not to use the 'San'? You've got to be kidding me."

He only frowned, not willing to let himself be set up for another round of her teasing. "Just call me Trunks, will you?"

"When I begged and pleaded to call you Trunks, when I cried, and whined, and disobeyed, you had babies over the issue. So, you know what, I don't think I will call you Trunks. I think I'll have you beg _me_ first."

"That will never happen." He answered automatically, trying not to laugh. "You can call me Trunks-San if you want to. For the rest of your stubborn life." He had just remembered that he had no intentions of seeing her again, so it didn't matter what she referred to him as. "In fact, you can call me anything you want. I don't care." He smirked.

"Could I call you boxer boy?" She tested, smiling slightly to herself.

"If you want to, Pan, I don't care." That answer seemed to make her immensely happy, for her face completely lit up. He almost lost his train of thought in her eyes.

"Anything I wanted then, huh?" When he nodded, she grinned and continued. "So, I could call you purple-prancer or Mr. Serious? I could call you a stick-in-the-mud or I could call you President Boring." She giggled slightly as he began to get annoyed with her childish antics. But he had no idea, no clue as to where her game was heading.

"I could call you half-breed, then?" When he didn't disagree, she decided to take things to where she'd intended to go in the first place. "I could call you boy-wonder, or Saiyan Prince? What about most-desirable or most-eligible? Maybe sexiest, then?" Her voice was getting slightly lower, softer. There was a teasing tone to it that was sending shivers down his spine, fireflies through his stomach, as her face moved closer to his.

"Maybe I could call you sensei-Trunks? Or maybe, maybe I could call you...master?" The word was barely audible, but he heard it. And her face was so close to his that he found, if he'd be trying to, he couldn't have resisted. But he certainly had not been trying to.

He captured her lips without prompting, almost as if his body had been drawn to hers magnetically. And they seemed to fit perfectly together. She melted against him, the fight that had been there last time no longer existing. Access was granted much easier and, oddly enough, he liked that about her too. Usually he liked the fight, but somehow, with her, he was far too impatient to want to have to convince her she wanted him the way he wanted her.

She still tasted the way he remembered, though it hadn't been more than twenty-four hours since he'd last sampled her lips against his. She was just as hot, maybe hotter, he couldn't tell. Only that his skin cooled hers and hers heated his. He pushed her down on the couch this time, not bothering to wait for her body to fall the way he had yesterday, covering her form with his. He didn't have the patience to wait because this time was different, this time was very, very urgent.

Like he had been thirsty for days and had been depriving himself of water. Yesterday had been new, exciting. Today was..._necessity_. He deepened the kiss, confusing his senses so that he couldn't tell his definition from hers. His hands caressed her arms and then moved onto her body, her waistline, his senses completely jumbled.

She felt wonderful, pressed against him, in his half working brain. He didn't think he'd ever want to stop. Every time he kissed her, his lips felt a burning, tingling sensation that spiraled all throughout his body and made him shiver from the inside out. He could get lost in her and he knew it.

He couldn't have fought it any longer, even if she hadn't moved so close to him, he realized quickly. He needed her, like this, with him, the way he needed the air he breathed. The thought jarred his senses so much, he pulled his lips away from hers like scorched fingers from an iron. They both tried to catch their breath before either of them spoke.

"What is wrong with us?" He asked, quietly almost to himself and not her at all. Almost as if he'd forgotten that she was there. But he hadn't. How could he? His body was laying on top of hers in such a way that made him very aware of her presence. And she was breathing heavily, breath still not caught, her eyes closed as though she seemed to be having the same thought.

"I should go. We were...almost done, I mean with the papers," She added quickly, with an uncomfortable and stammered tone to her voice. "And you won't need me anymore. So I won't have to see you anymore...Uh, I mean. I won't have to see you _tomorrow_. Or anymore in your office."

"Right, right." He pulled his body up slowly, almost as if he were afraid to lose her contact. His face twisted into a disturbed kind of wince at the thought, not wanting to be this interested in someone he never thought he'd _ever_ be interested in. "I'll finish it on my own. The papers, I mean." He added, realizing that his statement, if left alone, could have meant a multitude of things he hadn't meant it to. He nodded his head as he straightened his suit, thinking to himself that she wasn't leaving a moment too soon. This could have gotten out of hand really quickly...

He walked toward his office door as she gathered her coat and the rest of her belongings, opening the door to let her out, telling himself he was only being gentlemanly and he wasn't rushing her in any way. And all would have been free and clear, everything would have been just fine, perfect even, if Pan had simply walked out of the door and kept walking. But she hadn't.

She got to the door and leaned against the frame, smiling up at him slightly, her face a peach color from what Trunks guessed to be embarrassment. It didn't matter though, she looked absolutely delicious. In fact, if he hadn't known better, he'd have said she was teasing him on purpose. She rested her head against the door and licked her gorgeous lips, the smile never leaving her eyes.

"I'm sorry things had to end this way," And then she paused slightly before she deliberately added, "Trunks," to the mix, his name sliding past her teeth in a silky type of utter that made him shiver on the inside. She turned and caught part of the door between her fingers, her intention to swing it shut behind her, but her soft, small hand landed on his and she turned back in shock.

It wasn't her fault really, there was still that static heat between them that seemed to draw them together, and when her head snapped back, his leaned forward and their lips caught in a searing kiss. He wrapped his fingers around her hand and gently led her back into the office without breaking the kiss, assisting her as she clumsily closed the door behind her, while he struggled to find the lock. His mother's words were obviously still ringing in his ears and it was clear that, this time, he didn't plan on being interrupted.

The second the door was locked he pressed his body close to hers, her back hitting the frame of the wood behind her. She arched against him as he moved his hands from hers and onto her waist, under her shirt and onto her bare skin. She gasped, breaking the kiss and drawing in air as he moved his lips to the nape of her neck.

He caressed her skin so sensually with his tongue that she nearly lost all thought in the pleasure of it. The feelings that stirred within her were amazing. She hadn't expected this type of touch from him to be so wonderful. In fact, she hadn't expected to find out what him touching her this way would feel like at all - she had changed her mind half-way through with the plan, this afternoon. A moment ago she'd had every intention of walking out of the office door and out of his life forever. A moment ago she had been completely ignorant. Miserable and had not even known it. But now...with this...

This was pure bliss. The absolute definition of 'utopia'. Now that she was standing here, his lips softly pressing patterns onto the skin of her neck, his fingers dancing lightly across the bare skin of her stomach, she couldn't imagine being anywhere else. She couldn't even remember why she'd wanted to leave. She only wanted him to keep going, to keep touching her and kissing her and making her feel complete.

She felt him tug at her shirt, an impatience making him graceless in his efforts, so she eased her arms up, over his neck, and assisted in the removing of the offending article of clothing. He stopped his ministrations against her neck to get her shirt off, pausing slightly and looking as though he was going to change his mind about the whole ordeal. But his eyes scanned her nearly bare chest and she watched as something flashed through his eyes that she couldn't quite read. Whatever it was, though, obviously meant he wasn't going to change his mind about anything he was about to do to her.

There was a predatory look in his eyes that let her know she was not about to receive any mercy what-so-ever. As if he were punishing her for something, though she couldn't imagine what she'd done wrong. He placed his hands against her shoulders, roughly throwing her back against the door, and lowered his head to her shoulder. He started to suck harshly on the exposed skin there, making her think that he was trying to draw blood. She closed her eyes from the exquisite pain, the atrocious pleasure, of the action.

She was slightly ashamed, slightly alarmed, that the way he was handling her skin - so roughly and abusively - was turning her on. She squirmed against the pressure of his body pressed against hers, causing him to shift uncomfortably against her, pressing deeper onto her waist as his hands slid around her back to unclasp her bra. There was no turning back now, she realized, this was it.

Her bra was off before she could give it a second thought, her soft skin rubbing against the cotton of his pressed shirt. She found that highly uncomfortable and took it upon herself to rid the problem for him. He didn't protest, instead he assisted her by moving back, away from her while she worked the buttons of his shirt.

Their movements turned frantic, needing, neither of them trusting themselves to speak as they pulled each other's clothes off, every single piece of clothing. They both knew that when it was over, when it was done with, they wouldn't have to talk to each other again so there was no need to spoil the moment with unnecessary words. All either could think was how strong the desire inside them was. And that this specific desire needed to be fulfilled as soon as possible. Really, there was no thinking involved, only carnal instinct.

_To be continued..._

**Update Detail:** Due to the shortened length of the next few chapters, extra updates will take place on Monday, June 28 and Monday, July 5.


	10. Justification

Rainwater  
Chapter 9: Justification  
Rating: R for sexual situations and suggestions, adult topics and language.  
_WitchyPrincess_

_Justification_

_Sometimes you have to tell yourself to stop and take things slowly. Sometimes the pain wells up inside until you feel this panicked feeling in your chest and you don't think you can breathe, so you just have to take a time-out in your day to calm your nerves. _

_Well, it used to be a sometimes thing. Now I feel like everyday, every moment is one of those panicked, out of control, moments. Nothing ever slows it. And I just need someone to hold me and tell me when to breathe in and when to breathe out. Someone to rub my back, to wrap their arms around me and keep me safe from me at night. _

_I find myself always asking about my purpose in life. Always wondering about where I'm going, where I've been. And it's stupid to overanalyze everything. I know that but it's not the same, telling myself to stop and actually doing it, I mean. _

_He's the only thing that has ever made sense to my life and when he's not around I find that I lose all purpose completely. I'm more lost than before and that says something. All I want is for that dependence to go away. I want to learn how to be happy on my own before I can consider being happy with someone else. Even him and he means everything to me. _

_But when that thought comes to me, that panicked feeling returns. All I can think about is how true that statement is. He does mean everything to me. And what does that mean? How does this affect my life? And...what if he never cares? How do you accept the fact that you may have lost everything before you've even had it? _

_Sometimes I hate him much more than I hate myself._

_–Bra Briefs  
_#######

Bra drew in a breath as she tried to calm her racing pulse. She couldn't believe what she was seeing, couldn't believe this was happening. Not now. She needed to be strong, she reminded herself, her friends were watching her right now.

They were sitting in the food court of the mall; her, Marron, and Ubuu. Directly across from Bra, right in her line of vision, was Paris. And Goten. Talking. She noted, with some sort of self-restraint, that his hand was lightly resting on her shoulder and they seemed to be very comfortable with each other. So this was it, then? They had made up. She wondered who had apologized to who first. Though, she was sure, she didn't need to wonder; of course it had been Paris. It had to have been.

She averted her eyes, praying silently that Goten wouldn't see them and come over and join. Faintly, she heard Marron ask her a question but she couldn't make out what it was. The words were muddled and sounded as if they were coming from far away. How could this be happening right now? All Bra wanted to do was crawl into a hole and hide there forever. She forced a smile on her face as she opened her eyes, looking directly at Marron and not towards the area where she had seen Goten.

"What did you ask me, Marron?" She managed after a second.

"If you were okay. Clearly, you aren't." Marron raised a blonde eyebrow, challenging Bra to disagree.

"She looks a little pale." Ubuu added, leaning forward to inspect Bra's face. She wrinkled her nose and moved farther back, not wanting either of them to make a fuss over her.

"I'm fine, just a little tired." Her voice was curt as she responded, throwing the french fry she had been about to place into her mouth back onto her tray. She pushed her food away and leaned back with agitation. "Can we go back to Capsule already?"

"What's this?" Marron teased, an edge of suspicion to her voice. "_You_, the shopping queen, want to leave the mall without more than you can carry weighing someone else down?"

"I just don't," She didn't get to finish, Goten had spotted them after all.

"Marri, Ubuu, it's good to see you." It wasn't Goten, however, who greeted them first, but Paris. Marron looked up, her crystal blue eyes sparking with amusement as she gathered the scene before her, catching on quickly. She never missed a beat as she responded,

"Good to see you as well, Pari. It's been a while," There was tension in her voice, a teasing lightness that made Paris stiffen slightly. Bra recognized the snappiness as something that used to be very familiar to her but was no longer her way of speaking. She sighed inwardly with her predicament - she had to pretend when she was with Marron, she had to still talk like that.

"Yes, it has. I suppose, a little too long." Paris was slightly apologetic as her eyes circled away from Marron and landed dead on Bra. The young Saiyan had to remind herself not to sneer, Goten was watching.

"Paris, you remember Bra, don't you? Trunks' little sister?" That was Goten, using the term that Bra had outgrown years ago. Besides, she was the most well known woman in Japan, she didn't need someone else's name to associate with her own; it stood out all on its own. The face she gave Goten made sure he understood that without her having to say the words.

"The heiress to Capsule Corporations, of course I remember her. The question is, do you remember _me_? I'm Goten's," She hesitated here, obviously deciding between one word and another. When she'd come to a decision she cleared her throat to cover up the pause and smiled brightly, extending her delicate hand to shake with Bra's. "I'm Goten's girlfriend."

"I remember you." Bra informed, taking her hand briefly and shaking it in hers. She wanted to rip Paris' manicured nails off her fingers, but found her self-control somewhere. "I just wasn't aware that you and Goten were still dating." Bra knew, even before she said the words, that she was breaking the code. She wasn't supposed to point out that Paris and Goten were, to everyone else's knowledge, broken up. She was supposed to accept the girl's explanation without question.

"Oh, well, we just reconciled." Paris was eyeing Bra distastefully as she responded, not liking the boldness of her statement. Even Marron had drawn in a small breath of displeasure after Bra had made that last comment, but neither girl said anything about it. Instead, Ubuu came to the rescue with,

"Well, it's good to hear you two are working things out. I always thought you belonged with each other." Every woman there gave Ubuu a burning look that shut his mouth. He wasn't supposed to say that, making it apparent that Paris and Goten had been having problems, even if Bra had just done it. And, from Bra's perspective, he wasn't supposed to think they belonged with one another.

Ubuu cleared his throat uncomfortably, getting up and excusing himself to take their trash away from the table. Goten shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his face suggesting that he wanted, very much, to walk away as Ubuu had done. Goten wasn't stupid, he could feel the tension around the table.

"So," Paris finally spoke after a moment of cold silence. "How long have you been back in Japan, Bra?"

"Not long," Bra answered evasively. "I just got back recently."

"Oh, well I'm so glad I ran into you now then. It really has been a pleasure seeing you again. You've grown so much since you left." There was an insulting type of awe in her voice as she said it. It suggested that Bra had been very young, undeveloped, when she left. The younger girl gritted her teeth but smiled despite herself.

"Yeah, I guess we both look much older." Bra smirked, even though she'd tried to hold it in, as she observed Paris' scandalized expression. "Not that you don't look just as lovely as ever." She sugarcoated. Silently noting to herself that the sad part was, she did look lovely.

Just barely, Bra caught a glimpse of the wicked smile Goten sent her way upon hearing the comment on Paris' age, and she had to fight the blush that wanted to tint her cheeks. He thought it funny that she was insulting his girlfriend? Well, that was certainly interesting.

"We should be going." Paris grabbed Goten's hand protectively, a little rougher than was needed, as Ubuu walked back over to the table. "It was nice talking with you all. See you later Marron." And she stormed off without even the slightest pause for a response. Bra had to bite her lip to keep from giggling in amusement.

"Why on earth did you do that, Bra?" Marron hissed, her light eyes glinting angrily. "Paris can be a very vicious enemy."

"Well then she must not have ever had serious competition because I'm certainly not afraid of her."

"You should be." Marron warned, crossing her arms in disgruntled uneasiness. "I don't know what's gotten into you."

"If you ask me, I'd say you were jealous, Bra." Ubuu volunteered, his dark orbs boring into her. She shifted uncomfortably.

"That's why no one asked you." She shot back snootily, standing up to signify that he was not to argue with her. "Paris has absolutely nothing that I want, nothing I couldn't get. I'm ten times prettier than she is or will ever be."

"She's a model, Bra." He countered, standing up as well, as if that were supposed to discount everything Bra had just said.

"So? I'm the second richest woman in Japan; only my mother has more worth than I do. Besides, I could be a model if I wanted."

"Why are you justifying yourself to him?" Marron questioned dryly, gathering her purse and following the two of them as they started walking away from the food court. "He wouldn't know beautiful if it came and hit him on the back of the head to get his attention."

"Then why's he always staring at you?" Bra teased, pleased with the way Ubuu's ears turned deep red at the words.

"Oh, that's the exception. I mean, you'd have to be blind not to notice _me_."

"Then I must need correctional laser eye surgery." Bra mumbled, smiling to herself because of her own joke. Marron hit her on the back of the head as they both giggled lightly.

"That wasn't funny." Marron countered, through her smuggled laughter.

"Then don't laugh about it."

#######

Goten ignored the pleading voice inside his head that told him to turn away. Ignored the terrified whispers that coaxed him into remembering why, exactly, he shouldn't be here, doing this. He couldn't turn away now, he'd already called her. He'd already apologized and sent a dozen roses to her place, a dozen more to the office where she usually had photo shoots. There was no turning back.

Besides, he reminded himself casually, he wanted this. Ever since Paris had left his life he had felt as if there was an empty space inside his heart. A hole that just couldn't be filled. He'd felt lonely in more ways than one, and couldn't seem to find solace in anyone but the one he couldn't have. He missed her, there was no denying that.

So why was his heart speeding so fast as she stood there, out of dread and not anticipation? Why was he hoping she'd turn around and leave, hoping he wasn't making a huge mistake by apologizing to her? He could feel the tingles in his spine, as she reached one of her small hands up to run through her thick wavy chocolate hair, that told him he was definitely still interested in her. So, that wasn't the problem then.

It was as he had this thought that he saw her, the girl that put a name to his fears. Out of the corner of his eye he had caught a sight of her uncommonly blue hair and knew, without a doubt, that it was her. The girl that had encouraged him to call Paris, even without being aware of it.

He turned his head back to Paris, completely focusing his attention on her gorgeous green eyes and for the first time, being disappointed that they weren't a shimmering blue. The emotion started him, took him completely by surprise. He was aware that he found the other girl, the one with blue eyes, attractive, but he hadn't thought he'd be wishing she were here instead of Paris - instead of over _there_.

"You've finally come to your senses." The fair-skinned girl mused, curving her delicious lips into a winning smile. "I knew you'd realize how much you hurt me sooner or later. And when you did, I knew you'd understand that it was the very reason why I couldn't come back to you this time. I'm so glad you called, Goten."

He realized he should have hugged her then, taken her into his arms and kissed her, but he couldn't manage the gestures. He was only able to place his hand on her shoulder softly and smile down at her. Her words had been his undoing.

He hadn't called because he'd hurt Paris, could care less that he'd hurt her. He'd had every intention of letting her stew until she came crawling back to him - and she would have. But that was before Bra came back. Before he saw her at her welcome home party, dressed wonderfully and looking fully grown, matured more than he could have imagined. Before he began imagining exactly how mature she was.

And that was wrong. She was practically his little sister, for Dende's sake. He couldn't really be...lusting after someone that young and vulnerable. Could he?

Well apparently he was. And that was the reason he'd decided to call Paris. If he was starting to think even Bra was desirable, then surely he was missing Paris something fierce.

But now that she was here - her shape as beautiful and awe inspiring as ever, her eyes glinting with love that couldn't be mistaken, her smile nearly taking his breath away - he still couldn't shake the thought of how much prettier Bra's eyes were than hers. How they glimmered with something so innocent and breathtaking when she looked at him that he couldn't get the vision out of his head. How her hips were curved slightly rounder, her hair fuller and longer, her smile much more inviting. And her lips...He nearly groaned out loud with the thought of what he wanted to do to those lips. What he wanted those lips to do to _him_.

After a second more of torturing himself, he became aware that Paris had said something about Marron. She had spotted Bra as well then, because the girl was sitting with Marron and Ubuu. To Goten's dismay, he looked up in just enough time to understand that Paris was walking over there, and followed her instantly, inwardly grumbling. He didn't want to see Bra now, not like this. For some reason, he felt very guilty knowing that he was with Paris and Bra would see them together. Though that, in itself, was completely ridiculous.

He stepped over to the table quickly, trying to stand quietly behind Paris as she greeted Marron. Maybe this would be a short, sweet hello, and they could be on their way. He thought about leaning his head towards Paris' ear and telling her that he wanted to get out of here, but then he changed his mind. Paris and Marron had already exchanged their hello's and when he saw his girl's green eyes land on the figure of the girl that was haunting his thoughts, he spoke before Marron could open her mouth.

"Paris, you remember Bra, don't you? Trunks' little sister?" He added the end, not because he thought Paris needed the reminder, but because he thought he did. He had to remind himself exactly how young she was because his eyes were on her now and she looked anything but 'too young' for him.

She looked radiantly pretty. She was wearing a white shirt with gold trimming that flowed lightly but still managed to show off her figure. He could just glimpse the forest green pants she was wearing to compliment the shirt, along with the matching green make-up around her eyes. He remembered how perfectly smooth her face looked without the make-up, how very soft and inviting her lips were despite light pink gloss that shimmered on them.

She was glaring at him, though, he realized as the conversation continued on. Apparently she hadn't liked the additive he used to introduce her, and he had to fight to keep the slight wince from his face. He hadn't meant to offend her, only to remind himself to keep his thoughts wholesome in regard to her.

Her next words, though, didn't help in that goal.

"I just wasn't aware that you and Goten were still dating." The bite in her tone made him shift uncomfortably, as the guilt he'd been feeling earlier rushed up again. Why was it that he felt like he was doing something wrong by standing here next to Paris?

He didn't even think to glance at her to see how she would take such a comment, knowing that in Paris' world people didn't usually speak to her like that. It wasn't Bra's fault, though, that Paris was used to being pampered and Bra couldn't be expected to heed to other people's way of acting. Anyway, it would be good for Paris to be humbled by _somebody_, no one ever showed her even the slightest hint of disrespect.

Too late, he realized that Ubuu had said something that was good enough to allow him to be excused from the bickering. He wished badly that he could go too, not liking the way he was mentally coming to Bra's defense with every opportunity. He was with Paris and when she was offended he should be offended. Theoretically anyway.

There was a small silence in which he felt that he should open his mouth but couldn't quite find the words so he remained silent. Paris, did not. She used the opportunity to bite Bra back with her words. Goten wasn't really paying attention but, from Paris' tone, he could tell that what she'd said had been condescending at least. Something about how much Bra had grown and that was enough to make him lose his train of thought once again. She had definitely grown.

But Bra's words back were just as horrible, enough to keep his attention focused on the conversation. No one had ever kept up their battle of wits with Paris for this long, no one.

"Yeah, I guess we both look much older." Bra responded to whatever insult Paris sent her way. Her fighting spirit was enough to draw Goten's attention, but the smirk that she added to it made him unable to hide the slight smile that proved his amusement of her teasing Paris. Her eyes met his face and she caught the look as he fought hard to stop himself from commenting positively on her behavior. Paris would never let him live it down if he did.

He saw Paris' back straighten in anger, a clear admission to him that he'd be hearing about this all night, as she spoke,

"We should be going," and grabbed his hand with a little more force than was needed. He didn't even attempt to argue with her as she pulled him along, his mind too busy with what was wrong with him to try and persuade her differently.

#######

Goten had been right; he'd heard about Bra's 'bitchiness' all night. Paris ranted and raved, flipping her hair back and forth, softly muttering all through dinner. When he took her back to her house, she was still scowling, giving him dirty looks. She sat in his air car, glaring at him, waiting for him to say something in agreement with her. He hadn't been very accommodating when it came to insulting Bra, and he'd been a little scatterbrained because Paris kept mentioning the young girl's name.

Couldn't Paris see how gorgeous Bra was? Didn't she even think to stop opening her mouth about someone that pretty because maybe, just maybe, it would distract Goten's attention away from her? Paris was used to being the center of attention.

"Well?" She vented, pressuring him to say something.

"What?" He asked slowly, turning his head to face her, sighing because he knew what she wanted.

"Don't you have something to say? _Anything_ about the way she treated me?" She pressured, her nose shifting into the air. He sighed again.

"Not really." He told her truthfully, knowing he should have patted her ego. Knowing this was going to start a fight.

"Not really? You don't have anything to say to me about her? Didn't you hear what she said to me? Didn't you see how she looked at me?" She puffed, leaning back into the chair and crossing her arms. "You know what I think Goten?"

He lifted an eyebrow, curious. She thought? "No, what?"

"I think you've been distracted all day. And that's not all, I saw the way you looked at her. I think you've been distracted _because_ of her and that's why you haven't got anything to say."

"Paris," Goten started, a stern, warning tone to his voice. "Do you hear yourself? Are you going to do this forever; be jealous of everyone? I won't live like that. Don't start with me tonight, okay? We just worked things out, didn't we?"

"I'll tell you what, Goten," She started, leaning forward with an attempt at being intimidating. "You keep this up and you'll be right back where I left you, miserable without me. _I'm _not going to tolerate being treated like that. If I ever feel even slightly suspicious that you've got something going on with that girl I'll drop you faster than hail before a hurricane. Do you understand _me_?" She glared at him for a long minute in silence, not really expecting him to answer, before she turned around and pushed his car door open. She stomped out and slammed it shut, still scowling, and marched all the way up to her house door without looking back.

Goten sat in the car, his eyes closed in frustration, hands gripped on the steering wheel.

What was he doing with her still? They were always like this; really good or really bad. There was never a middle ground. Dende, he wished that just _one_ _day_ wasn't heaven or hell, that just one day they could stay on earth.

Even when he thought they were progressing she always seemed to make him see things weren't working. And whenever he left she called him back. And he always went. So why had he called her this time? Again the question flooded his brain as he pulled away: what was he doing with her still? He knew what they needed to do; she needed to let go of him and he needed to do the same for her.

But he loved her. Didn't he?

_To be continued..._


	11. Disastrous

Rainwater  
Chapter 10: Disastrous   
Rating: R for sexual situations and suggestions, adult topics and language.  
_WitchyPrincess_

_Disastrous_

_Beautiful disaster. That sums it up in two words. It's easy for someone looking in to tell me what a mistake I made. To point a finger and place the blame. It's easy for someone who's never felt the heat of his gaze or the pressure in their chest when his skin, so soft and smooth and cool, came in contact with yours, to say that I should have walked away. That I shouldn't have played the game - I should have known about the backfire. _

_I did know about the consequence and I knew full well the mistake I was making. It's just that, in the midst of everything happening, the fallout was the last thing I was thinking about - I promise you. If I had to go back in time to change it, I doubt I could. I'd just keep making the same mistake, over and over. An outsider would look and say I initiated it. That it was my plan and I tricked the innocent with temptation. But if you had been there - if you had been wearing my shoes - you would know the truth. _

_There is no genuine blame. Both of us had equal parts in it and, honestly, I believe he started it. We both knew the reasons not to and we knew what would happen after (or we thought we knew) but we couldn't stop it. We couldn't fight it, not just me, he lost all control just as easily as I did. And when it was done we never thought we'd be alone again and even if we were alone we weren't going to repeat the mistake twice._

_Except there was something magnetic about him. Or maybe it was that there was something empty in me. For I couldn't avoid him and he was - for some reason - just as drawn to me. But, hey, who was dumb enough to make the same mistake over and over again, right? Even though I, after those few magical moments in his arms, realized that I could, I doubted that he would. And that was the best thing for both of us. Distance. Indifference. _

_If only either of us had known what we were getting into beforehand._

–_Pan Son  
_#######

She walked into her apartment slowly, her eyes unfocused, her heart drumming so quickly she couldn't hear her feet pad across the floor and head straight for her bathroom. She couldn't hear the uncomprehensible words she was mumbling, was not even aware that she was making the noise.

Her hands were shaking, wrapped protectively around her middle in a defensive kind of embrace as she kicked open her bathroom door and then slammed it shut again with her hips. She headed straight to the shower, turning the water on and rubbing her hands up and down over her arms in an abrasive manner.

She couldn't believe what she had just done.

She felt unbelievably dirty on the outside; corrupt, dry and void of anything innocent on the inside. He hadn't even made eye contact with her, hadn't even had the courage to look her in the damn eyes. Just rolled over and quietly said goodbye. She was nothing but a slut to him, she realized. Bulma had been wrong. And the sad part was, she hadn't even given Bulma's advice a thought while she was with him. She hadn't even been trying to follow Bulma's advice.

But what hurt more than anything, she supposed, was that she hadn't expected him to do what he'd done - nothing at all. Reluctantly she admitted that she had at least expected him to hold her until she got up. Expected him to give her some kind of loving embrace or gentle touch, but he hadn't. It had all been rough, animal like. It had all been sleazy, nothing more than a quick rut, and she was ashamed.

She climbed into the shower without even removing her clothes, sitting down and rubbing her hands over her face, neck, arms. She ripped the clothing off slowly, piece by piece, waiting until everything was soaked through. She wanted every piece of her, even her clothing, sterilized of his touch. She would never wear that particular outfit again, ever.

Her sobs choked in her throat, her eyes turning red as the water dripped all down her face and over her body. She wasn't sure, but she thought she was crying. At least, she felt like she was and, oddly, she hoped the feeling held true. She couldn't hold this inside. This was a different kind of pain entirely. It wasn't like when he'd ripped her self-esteem apart four years ago. This was much worse.

It would tear at her like a plague. Creep through every piece of her and destroy her from the inside out, if she let it. She needed to be rid of this feeling - this ache. She began to scrub herself harder, sobbing louder, turning her skin red with her anguish. She rubbed with vigor until pieces of her flesh started to rip off.

Then and only then did she fall back in the tub, covering her eyes with her hands as she opened her mouth, letting the water run into her mouth, up her nose, while she cried out the rest of her heartache. She laid there, crying, being scolded by the hot water to wash away her sin, until her skin turned a deep red and wrinkled and the water ran cold against her flesh. Then she turned the water off only to lay there for hours, cold and naked.

She knew without anyone having to tell her that she'd made a terrible mistake. One she would pay for throughout the rest of her life. One she'd never be able to forgive herself for or forget. And, more importantly, one she'd never forgive _him_ for.

He was supposed to have had restraint where she did not. He had failed her, and he had broken every word he'd told her four years ago at that horrible party. She wasn't sure what was worse, the fact that he'd said it then and meant it, or the fact that she had been very right and very wrong all along: She really could seduce him, she just couldn't make him care for her. Ever.

But one thing was certain, if it had not been before, she hated him. Hated him like she could hate nothing, no one, else. Hated him because she could have loved him if he had shown, even if only a very little, some compassion towards her a couple of hours ago. She could have been his forever. But he had not.

#######

Bulma eyed her son wearily across the dinner table, her predatory eyes scanning his every movement for sign of what was wrong. He'd been like this for a week, she noted mentally, distant and brooding. Something was wrong and it definitely had something to do with Pan.

She noticed his first wince four days ago when Bra mentioned the quarter-Saiyan's name. He shifted uncomfortably, snuck a look at Bulma to see if she was watching him, and then, upon discovering that she was, abruptly left the room. And he had looked angry then too.

Now he was picking with his food, moving it around on his plate, and glowering as if he were a teenager who had just been grounded. She wanted to bite her tongue, knew she shouldn't interfere, but found she couldn't keep silent any longer. Vegita, from across the table, was giving her a look that said he was waiting for her to say something to their son. She knew that Vegita had noticed the change too.

"Trunks," Bulma started tentatively. "Why don't you try putting the food in your mouth, honey?" A small crease lifted the corner of her lips upwards to show him she was joking with him. He looked up at her and made a small attempt to laugh, but the sound was choked and came out more like a sob. This time she winced.

"Or you could continue to stare at it. Whatever makes you happy." She shrugged, changing her tactic she turned to Bra. "So, isn't Pan coming by tomorrow morning so you two can train again, baby?" Out of the corner of her eye she saw her son choke on the piece of fish that was in his mouth, quickly trying to cover it up.

"We canceled." Bra replied absently, her own body language implying that there was something wrong with her as well. Bulma resisted the urge to sigh. Why did both her children's lives get screwed up at the same time like that?

"Why?" It was Trunks, instead of Bulma, that asked this question. Bra looked up at him, one of her blue eyebrows arched in defense.

"What do you care?" Her eyes flashed dangerously, telling him to mind his own business.

"Because I care." He answered back just as harshly. Bulma shifted uncomfortably in her seat as both her children stared each other down. She was about to open her mouth to interrupt their silent battle when she caught Vegita's eyes and realized that he was telling her stay out of this one.

"Well," Bra finally responded, her voice a calmer quiet. "It's none of your business why I don't want to train tomorrow."

"Is that how it went, then? You decided not to? Not her?"

Bra sat her napkin roughly on the table, eyeing her brother as if she'd just pulled him off her shoe. She drew in a deep breath, her eyes flashing pain for a moment, and then stood up regally.

"If you have something to say to me, boxer-boy, just say it. Don't use false concern for someone else to try and weasel the information out of me. Don't make it sound like you're concerned about Pan, I know you two hate each other, just to figure out what's going on in my life. I don't need you always looking down your nose at me, you nosy son-of-a-bitch. When I want to fight, I'll fight. When I don't fucking feel like it, I won't. And you will not question when or why I do what the hell I do!"

"Bra...I..." His mouth dropped open in astonishment. Bulma bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from responding. She couldn't believe what she had just heard her daughter say. But Vegita was still giving her the look to keep quiet, and he usually knew what he was talking about when it came to things like this.

She didn't know much about battles, about winning in physical fights, but she knew plenty about arguing. This was not an argument. This was a war and she had no idea what triggered the first bomb but obviously something had.

"I'm grown, in case you haven't noticed, and I don't need you analyzing every single thing I do anymore. Get your own life for once."

"Is that what you think I do? Is it..." He choked on the question, looking down at his plate as he tried to form the words again. "Was that the reason you..."

"Just mind your own business." She pushed her chair in and stormed out of the dinning room, her eyes still filled with misdirected hatred. Trunks pushed his plate away and stood, Bulma gave Vegita a pleading look. Her husband grunted.

"Sit brat." He commanded, pushing his own plate back and leaving the table to follow after his daughter. He paused in the dinning room entryway, giving Trunks a long, meaningful look that spoke volumes, before he said,

"You will talk to your mother about what has been keeping you awake at night. You will tell her everything and, trust me, I will know if you don't."

"But-"

"It wasn't a request." And then he walked out of the entryway and toward Bra's room.

When he was gone, Bulma folded her hands together and leaned forward, looking into her son's eyes. Looking into the sadness that she couldn't reach, couldn't shake or will away. She'd give anything to see her children smile with joy again, Dende, she'd give her life to know they were happy for all time.

Then she wondered if Pan had taken her 'advice' to heart. Another look into her son's eyes and she knew the girl had. But something was wrong. Very wrong...

"What did Pan do to you?" She questioned, her voice harboring a hard edge of vengeance if the girl had hurt him in any way.

"Nothing. It's what I did to her that's hurting me." He lowered his eyes in shame.

"There's no shame in loving someone, Trunks. Or making love to them, no matter who they are sweetheart." She responded softly, reading him clearly.

"I didn't make love to her, mom." He denied with a hint of sadness to his voice. His eyes flickered up to hers, a heavy burden filling them. "I had sex with her." She saw his body tense, as if he were preparing for an onslaught of screaming. None came. Slowly, his eyes made their way to hers again. She was still smiling softly at him, carefully, with understanding.

"And Pan? How did she feel about this?" Her voice was soft, comforting. He wrinkled his brow in frustration.

"She has to hate me."

"Did she tell you that?" She implored, forcing his eyes, with her willpower, to hold contact with hers.

"She should have to? I took advantage of her, mom. I knew that Pan...well, that she cared more for me than she should. I was supposed to tell her no, I always have. I was still supposed to. I don't...I don't know why I couldn't." He looked like he was about to break down in anguish, his eyes were glistening with anger and frustration, his hands gripped into fists.

"How did she say she felt Trunks? After?"

"She didn't say. She just left. We didn't talk, just said goodbye."

"Trunks!" There was the onslaught he had been expecting, the shriek he had tensed for earlier but wasn't prepared for now. He frowned deeply with her outburst.

"You can't treat someone like that. Can you imagine how she felt? You can't take a girl's virginity and then send her packing without so much as a pat on the back for reassurance." Her voice had calmed, to keep his attention focused on her, but the bite hadn't left.

A smirk snuck up to Trunks' face making him look, for all the world, like was trying to fight off a laugh. With horror, she realized he was. Rage built up inside her as she prepared to chastise him, this certainly was not a laughing matter, but he interrupted before she could start.

"Pan may have been a lot of things the other day, mother, but a virgin was not one of them." His eyes glinted as he said it, telling her more than she wanted to know about their sexual encounter.

She frowned deeply. "Not a virgin?...Are you sure...I mean, I know you..." She stopped, looking stricken as she realized something. "Forget that, of course you're sure. It doesn't matter. Just because, Trunks, the girl was not a virgin, does not make her some common whore. You can't just...I did not raise you to treat women..." Her train of thought was disrupted immediately as she realized something else. She wanted to cry, the thought made her so entirely sick.

"Did she throw herself at you?" Her voice was high, cautiously afraid, as she asked. If Pan had done that, it would be because Bulma had told her to. But Bulma had thought she was telling a virgin to seduce a grown man with much experience, she had thought she was giving impossible advice. She had thought Pan would try, would entice her son, and he would take it from there.

And she had thought, too, that just once would be enough because Trunks was Saiyan. If Pan had been a virgin and Trunks had been her first, well then that would be a whole different story. Saiyans were very possessive over what was theirs, anything they didn't want someone else to have. And knowing he had been her only would be enough to trigger that possessiveness. Because she was Pan. But he had not been.

Now if Pan had thrown herself at him then he had every right to believe her to be a slut. He was male and that was the way male minds worked. To him, it had been nothing more than sex, he'd said so. But surely he knew that to her it had been the world. Hadn't it?

Bulma was scared that things were about to turn very ugly. She had to fix this immediately, before the wounds got more of a chance to fester. Pan, she realized, probably did hate her son right now.

"No," Trunks answered her, drawing her out of her panic. "It wasn't like that. It was...I don't know. Powerful, it was powerful mom. We couldn't fight it, either of us, even though we both tried. It was like I was drawn to her somehow. Does that even make sense?"

"Sounds like lust to me, Trunks." She frowned slightly, in a teasing way, to ease her son's uneasy expression. "Listen," She smiled, knowing she was about to make him very uncomfortable but not wanting him to expect it and be able to deny her.

"You can't leave things like this." She held up a hand to silence him before he could protest. "I know you may want to. I know you may think that things will fix themselves, but if you let them go this way it will only make it worse. In the end, you'll have this one thing, this one regret, looming over your head. You'll always wish you had said something, done something to fix it.

"You and Pan lost contact four years ago and, though I don't know what happened, I can tell that for a brief moment you were happy to have her back. As a friend, I mean. Don't ruin everything you've grown up with just because of one simple mistake. And don't hurt her this way, you do know that you had to have hurt her, don't you? If you never speak to her again, that could leave damaging effects to her self-esteem. She might never be over it, Trunks.

"Please, let me arrange a dinner, something informal, where you two will have the chance to talk without the pressure of having to. That way, if you decide that it's not a good idea, you can just leave and not bother with the burden. But you will not take the cowardly way out, it's not in your blood and I will not allow it. If you feel, even a little press, that says you owe her at least an explanation of some sort, you will talk to her. Do you understand?"

None of it was a request. All of it was an order. And he heard it for what it was, nodding his head quickly and straightening his shoulders.

"I understand. I'll talk to her when you arrange this dinner. But only if you promise not to watch over me the entire night, pressuring me, and only if you allow us to talk privately. Without interruption. If you can promise that no one is going to barge in on us then yes, I'll do it."

"Promised." A devious smile curved her lips, one of planning. Of course no one would interrupt them, she wouldn't have it any other way...

#######

"What did the boy say was wrong with him?" Vegita questioned as his wife pulled on her nightgown. He was sitting up in bed with his arms crossed, a scowl taking over his face simply because he felt it had a right to be there.

"He slept with Pan." Bulma informed after the gown was on, walking over to the bed and getting under the covers. She said it easily, as if that type of news was normal, everyday conversation, and her husband didn't even flinch.

"Did he say he loved her?" Was, oddly enough, his next question, as if he already knew that bit of news.

"No." Bulma shook her head, opening a book and leaning back on her pillows. There was a nearly bitter tone in her voice as she responded though, and Vegita turned to her, waiting patiently for her eyes to meet with his as he caught on to it.

"Good." He said when she looked up into his dark eyes. Her eyes turned cloudy, puzzled, with his response. He could see that she was trying not to voice her confusion but couldn't fight the urge.

"What do you mean, 'good'?" Her voice still had an edge to it as she asked that caused him to smirk at her.

"Good that he made you understand. Good that he didn't lie." He grunted, leaning on his back again, breaking their eye contact.

"What makes you think he didn't lie when he said they weren't in love."

"He didn't. He doesn't love her." He pulled the covers over him as he said it, getting comfortable in the bed.

"How do you _know_?" Bulma questioned, exasperation in her voice.

"He's my son. I know him."

"He's my son too, and I'm not so sure. At least, I'm not sure he couldn't love her. He'll get there soon, when he sees her again."

"When, exactly, will that be?" He questioned, eyes lighting as he looked back up to his wife.

"What makes you think that I know?"

"You're the mother of my son, I know you too."

"I was thinking about next week. You agree?" He snorted his response, feigning indifference even though she knew he had an opinion. "Come on, Vegita, tell me what you're thinking."

"He'll use her, break her, and make her hate him before he realizes what he's doing."

"You disagree with them being together."

"No. There should just be another way. This way she'll be hurt."

"You love her, don't you?" He grunted again, not bothering to respond. "So do I, Vegita. You've got to trust that I'm not trying to hurt her. I just can't watch my children die like this. You see them, I know you do. They're remarkably miserable with their lives and if we're not careful we'll lose them both. For good. I don't want to see that happen."

"You'd be willing to sacrifice a young girl for your son's happiness?"

"Wouldn't you? If you knew it'd work out in the end?" Again, he didn't answer, but she knew what he was thinking anyway. "I'm positive it'll work out, Vegita. I raised him and he's not as hard hearted as you think he is. In this you are blind to your son's true emotions. He will love her."

"Yes, he will. But what of her, by the time he does? How will she feel towards him?"

"It's a bridge we'll have to cross when we get there. It's already been put in motion now, Vegita and, even if we wanted, we couldn't stop it. It's too late. We can only help it along, guide it where we have the opportunity, and pray that things work out." There was a long silence before Bulma ventured to speak again, changing topic slightly.

"What about Bra? What did she say of her outburst at dinner?"

"She said she wasn't feeling well and, being male, I couldn't possibly understand." This time he sounded bitter. Bulma lifted an eyebrow.

"Doesn't she even consider who she's lying to when she says those things?" Bulma smirked, slightly pleased that at least Trunks had not lied to her.

"Apparently not."

"You asked her to tell you what was really wrong, didn't you?" She prodded, not willing to drop it. "I mean, I've never seen her get so riled for no reason at all. If there was something said, done, on Trunks' behalf, I missed it."

"There was. She thought Trunks was being judgmental about her training habits. I don't know if you've noticed but our daughter has always been sensitive about her lack of brutal force. She assumed he was teasing her."

"There has to be more to it than that." Bulma refused to accept that explanation for the whole truth. Whether it was because she couldn't imagine someone being that worked up over training or because she actually did know her daughter better than that, Vegita could not tell. But she was right.

"There is. She's in love with the youngest male Son."

"In love with Goten? Are you sure?" She sounded more than shocked, years of her daughter's life flashing through her eyes. After a moment she sighed, closing her eyes in realization. "I can't believe I never noticed before." She spoke at last.

"You're planning something aren't you." He stated more than questioned.

"I'm already one step in the right direction."

"There's no way I can talk you out of it?"

"No way." He didn't even bother to sigh, simply closed his eyes and turned to his side. He'd known this woman too long to even try and argue over these things. She was going to do what she wanted, her stubborn streak was worse than his. It was one of the many reasons he loved her so much, though he'd kill anyone who even suggested such a thing about him.

"Goodnight, Vegita." He grunted again as she put her book down and shut off the light.

_To be continued... _


	12. Invitations

Rainwater  
Chapter 11: Invitations   
Rating: R for sexual situations and suggestions, adult topics and language.  
_WitchyPrincess___

_Invitations_

_I spent my whole life living for other people, never living much at all. When my friends said "jump" I was the first to ask "how high". I was always aiming to please, led by my mother's hand I sheltered myself under my father's arms. _

_He was always the one that chased the bad guys away. That handled my problems and picked me up when I cried. And she was always the one that told me what to do. Always told me where to go, how to act, and what to say. I never disobeyed, I never questioned or ventured to find out for myself how I wanted to do things. _

_Until finally I had to leave. Finally I had to live for me, to find me. And no one understands that. Everything I've done, prior to New York, I've done for everyone else. To please everyone else. For the first time I did something selfishly, solely for me, and it seems to have turned everyone's world upside down. _

_I look in the mirror and I don't recognize me anymore. I'm not the same girl I used to be._

_I've always tried my best with everything I've done. A perfectionist despite myself, always feeling my best was never good enough; living in the shadow of blind illusion, some fictional picture my parents and friends had of who I am. Trying my best to be the girl in that photograph. Someone who laughs._

_But sometimes the plastic stretched too thin. It's amazing that I'm not a mess of jumbled glass, I'm so very fragile in my form. It's amazing that I haven't already broken, I definitely wasn't built to last. _

_–Bra Briefs  
_#######

Bra drew her feet up as she stared out the window. This had been the worst week of her life, and now her mother was only making it more gruesome.

Why couldn't either of her parents simply mind their own business? She hated the way her father always seemed to know everything that she didn't want him to, and she hated the way he shared it with her mother. Apparently neither of them believe she was just simply in a bad mood. Neither of them believed it was a 'feminine' thing. But, then again, she knew who her parents were. They knew better than to believe things like that when they weren't true.

She hated that she was so upset about something so trivial. And she hated that she couldn't fix this.

Why was he back with Paris already? Why had they reconciled so quickly? Bra had thought she'd have at least two weeks to work Goten. But no, now he was back with 'the love of his life' and she didn't stand a chance in hell. Pan had been right all along, and Bra hated to be wrong. Especially about important things. And this was the most important of all.

Now she didn't want to do anything, she didn't even want to leave her room. She couldn't even think of training. And for what? For some guy that had never looked twice at her in that way anyway. She knew, all along she knew, that she was fighting a losing battle. But she had been willing to fight it anyway.

Where was that girl, that spirit, now? She had to get her back, she wasn't willing to give up yet. She refused to sit back and let Paris have the upper hand. This was war and, dammit, they were both going to end up with some scars if Bra had put everything she had into it.

No, this wasn't over yet. Her mother had made sure of that and, Bra was sure, she had done it on purpose. For some reason, Bulma was now aware of the affection Bra held for Goten. And she was aware of many more things, that Bra could only guess at, about Trunks. Her mother was scheming, she could see it in her eyes. Bra only hoped it worked in her favor. This get-together certainly seemed to promise just that.#######

Pan sighed as she poured her mother a cup of coffee. She wasn't really in the mood for this, but then, to be fair, she hadn't been in the mood for anything lately. She'd been in a bad mood for nearly the entire week since she'd left Trunks' office.

Now was different though. This was about more than just her bad mood in general; this was about principle. If her father wanted to see her then he should be the one sitting across from her on her worn-out sofa, not Videl. She wasn't going to come crawling back to her father any more than he was going to do the same for her. For all she cared, they could hold out in this silent war forever.

But she'd been incredibly lonely these last few days. She couldn't go over to her parents' house and bother her father to spar. She couldn't go shopping with her mother, or sit in the kitchen and annoy ChiChi and her mother. She couldn't do anything that involved seeing her father because that would be like saying he was right. And she certainly couldn't see Trunks.

Goten was back with Paris, she'd heard it from his own mouth, and so he had no time for her. As per usual. She no longer had a boyfriend, not that she was sorry about that at this particular moment - all boys were scum - but at least that would be some companionship. Someone to talk to.

Besides work, which consisted of her never leaving her office anyway for fear of seeing Trunks, she hadn't had any human companionship at all. Not really.

The only person she could think of that might even want to see her was Bra. And Bra had cancelled their training, not that she wanted to go to Trunks' house and do anything that might involve seeing him. She truly never wanted to see him again. But the fact of the matter was, she was going out of her mind in this small apartment and there was only so much one could do alone without feeling foolish doing it. She'd already crossed the line.

Besides, she couldn't stand herself lately. She hated her thoughts when she was alone. They all revolved around Trunks. And how she might, maybe, miss him a little. Well, miss wasn't exactly the word, but she certainly couldn't stop thinking about him. And his hands. And, Dende, his lips.

She shifted in her seat as her mother gave her an odd, questioning look, with the tilt of her head. "Are you alright, sweetheart? You look..."

"Uncomfortable?" Pan volunteered, trying to get her point across. She didn't want to talk about her father. Her mother sighed, shaking her head.

"No, different. You look different." Pan shifted again.

"How so?" She asked, not being able to resist. Her mother seemed to think for a long time before she found the words to respond. And when she did her explanation was as feeble as her observation.

"I don't really know what it is, Pan. But...You just seem..." She narrowed her eyes, leaning closer and studying her daughter with perceptive sea-blue eyes. "Are you sure you're feeling okay? You look like...honey, you look like someone's stolen your happiness. Are you sure you don't want to see your father today?"

"Positive. If dad wants to see me then he can come over here himself, there's no need for a middle man in this mom. He obviously doesn't want to or he'd be the one here and not you. You don't have to do this because you think it's the best thing for everyone. It'd be better if you minded your own business."

"Honey, did something happen that you want to talk about?" Her mother asked with concern, not bothering to pay attention to Pan's long response to her previous question. Her voice was still filled with worry and she was still staring at Pan as though she'd never seen her before.

"No! Heavens, what's wrong with you? I can't simply look a little tired without you getting all nosy and ready to swing into action, gah. Listen, mom, you're not a super-hero anymore, you know. I don't need you regulating my life."

"I was only asking if you wanted to talk, Pan," Her voice sounded clipped now as she stood up, setting the coffee down on the table, un-sipped. "A simple 'no' would have sufficed. And I'm only here because your father and I are taking a vacation. We're going to Spain for two weeks and I didn't want him to mope around the entire time and brood. But if you're going to be that way then maybe it'd be better if he doesn't see you." She straightened her shirt and headed for the door.

Guilt took over as Pan walked behind her mother, chewing on her lip and wishing she had kept her mouth shut. "Mom, I'm sorry. I've just had a rough week and, I guess, I was looking for someone to take it out on. I didn't mean anything by it. And," Here she sighed, drawing in a deep breath. "I guess I'll see dad before you guys leave. But I'm not going to apologize or anything like that. And I'm only doing it because you asked, no other reason." There was warning in her voice as she said that part, a slight glare in her expression.

"You don't have to do me any favors, Pan." Her mother muttered, sighing softly. "I just hope you start to feel better, Pan, because you really don't look too well. Maybe you should get out of the house for a while, call up a friend?"

"Actually I was going to go to the park for a little while and watch the ducks." She wasn't really, she didn't want to go outside and face the world. But she did want her mother out of her apartment.

"Good, you look paler than I've ever seen you before." Pan sighed as her mother opened the door and waved goodbye. "I'll be looking forward to seeing you tomorrow." Videl called as the door closed behind her. Pan muttered as she went to pick up the coffee cup, hating the way she felt so manipulated.

#######

There was no way in hell Pan was going to go. Was Bulma insane? Who did she think she was, ordering something like this? Requesting that Pan make every arrangement necessary to attend this two-day, no-reason trip with only six people invited, herself included.

If Bulma had even the slimmest hope in hell that Pan was going to show, she would have lied about the guest list. She would have at least embellished a little. Bulma, of all people, should know Pan would never want to do this.

But then again, it had been Bulma who was absolutely certain Pan was madly in love with her son when, actually, it was the direct opposite.

Pan couldn't hate him more if he'd killed someone she loved. In a way he had; he'd killed her. There had been very few people she'd loved more than herself, now she couldn't even stand her reflection. She detested the mere thought of him.

She got off her sofa as the buzzer sounded, praying to every spirit and higher being that she could think of, that it was Bulma-San herself, insisting that Pan come. She'd throw the woman out without a second thought.

Nothing, no one, could drag her onto an island with these people. And there was nothing, no one, that could make her change her mind. Fortunately, as she pressed the buzzer to ask who it was, it was only Goten on his way up to see her. Thank goodness for that small blessing.

The only problem was, when he got there and she saw him, he was holding up the same dumb ass invitation that she'd just bowled up and thrown into her trash can. Whatever his reason for showing up with that invitation, she resolved, would not get her to change her mind. She was not going to go.

#######

Forty-five minutes of persuasion, coxing, teasing, and shameless begging later, she was sighing and throwing her hands up into the air in frustration.

"What do you want from me? Why is this so important to you?"

"Why are you so adamant against this, Pan?" He countered. "There's no reason for you not to want to go."

"Answer my question first." She demanded stubbornly, shifting with extreme discomfort at the possibility of having to explain. Goten would go completely crazy if he knew the truth, if he knew what happened between her and Trunks. She was positive he'd kill someone. She just didn't know if it'd be her or Trunks and that was the only thing keeping her from spilling it all.

"Bulma came to me and made it pretty clear that I'm not to refuse this invitation. Call me a coward if you want to but that woman can be intimidating when she's trying to be. I couldn't say no to her. Now I have to go Pan, and if I have to go then someone's got to suffer this with me. Please, don't make me do this alone."

So that answered one question. No, Bulma wasn't insane, she was sneaky and manipulative, but not insane. She knew what she was doing. She went to Goten because she knew Pan would refuse her if she tried it. She used Goten to get to Pan and now Pan was stuck. She couldn't say no to her uncle, not just because she couldn't say no to him - though that was certainly part of it - but because if she did she'd have to explain why. And there was nothing, short of the truth, that he'd believe as good enough reason why she wouldn't go.

She could say she hated Trunks, he'd simply say she didn't really and she wouldn't have to see him anyway. Besides, she'd grown up with him and he thought she was crazy about Trunks, at least as a friend. She always had been. She could try saying she hated Trunks, Marron, Ubuu, _and_ Bra but that wouldn't work either. He'd tell her that she could spend all her time with him, and that he'd enjoy it just as much as she would - not at all. She couldn't say no. There was no way out of this.

She really hated everything that involved the 'Briefs' name now. This was not fair. She absolutely could not spend a weekend at a resort with only Marron, Ubuu, Goten, Bra, and Trunks and not see Trunks at all. Not talk to Trunks at all. She didn't even know what kind of arrangements Bulma had made; for all she knew, her and Trunks could be sharing the same room. At this point, she wouldn't put it past the woman. And, considering Bulma's meddling record, she'd be smart not to.

It would be just like Bulma to come up with some horrible plan, with the pretense of 'helping out'. She never did help. Every time she stuck her nose into something she only ever made it worse, and this was no exception. Bulma thought she was doing what was best, helping Pan along with the 'plan', but she was not. There was no plan any longer and if Bulma knew the whole story she'd understand why not. As it was though, Pan would just have to suffer through this with as much grace as she could muster. She had to face her demons sometimes.

Besides, it wasn't like Trunks was going to actually insist on spending any time with her. They both felt the same way about each other. The little incident the other day needed to be dead and buried; they were both going to try their best, she was sure, and pretend like it never happened. And, in the meantime, they were going to avoid each other like the plague. There was no way, she thought, that he was going to try and make things better between them. There was no reconciling something this horrible.

#######

Bra put the last of her things in her second bag and zipped it up. She only needed three days worth of clothes but she still found a way to fill up two different bags along with a make-up bag. She almost laughed at her own self, thinking about how some things didn't change after all. She'd always be her mother's daughter, despite herself.

There was no time, however, to dwell on the particulars. Marron would be here in a few minutes and then they would be off. Off to meet the others at the airport, just as her mother had arranged.

She was surprised that no one had called to cancel. But then, she knew Bulma had put a lot of pressure on everybody so that they wouldn't turn her down. What she'd done though, Bra couldn't help but think, was not exactly the best of things.

She'd sent invitations to Goten, Pan, Marron, and Ubuu, telling each of them that she'd paid for them to spend a week-end on the beaches of the Carribean Islands. Who could refuse something like that anyway? Bulma's only request was that they each spend time together, like they used to as children, and not invite anyone else to come along. Just the six of them, she'd said, like old times.

But Bra knew she was up to something. There was more to this than met the eye. And she had a sneaking suspicion it had to do with her and Goten - thus the 'no outside company' rule. Paris, therefore, could not come. And yet, Bra couldn't shake the feeling that it also had to do with Trunks. Or maybe, maybe it had to do with only Trunks and not her at all.

Ever since Bra had blown up at him during dinner last week, they'd been avoiding eye contact with each other. She'd done her best to silently apologize to him, but he was worse than ever before. It scared her, watching her brother spiral into a wave of emotions that she didn't understand and wasn't sure if she was to blame for or not. She certainly hoped not, she'd never forgive herself if she was the reason he was so upset, but she had no other explanation.

So maybe this was what Bulma thought Trunks needed, in order to lift his spirits. Surely her mother had noticed how upset Trunks was lately, everyone noticed. He looked like someone had stolen his best friend, or, and maybe more accurately, he looked like _he'd _stolen someone else's best friend and now he felt guilty about it.

She sent a silent prayer up to Dende, for her brother, in hopes that he worked things out this week-end. For everybody's sanity.

_To be continued..._


	13. Appearances I

Rainwater  
Chapter 12: Appearances I   
Rating: R for sexual situations and suggestions, adult topics and language.  
_WitchyPrincess___

_Keeping up Appearances_

_You stare because you don't see a girl, you see a body. You see my golden hair, my sky-blue eyes, my perfect smile; but you never see my heart._

_And I guess it's my fault I never offer it to you. My fault I never show you more than what you see, because I like the admiration in your eyes when you believe I'm perfect. I need you to believe in me because I scarcely believe in myself. I need someone to think I'm better than I am. _

_So I don't fault you because you get lost in my legs, lose yourself in my eyes, and die a happy death inside my arms without ever questioning me on my full name. Maybe I encourage it, maybe I'm to blame. I, if I am to blame, have no excuse. But you at least could have tried to find the girl underneath the smile. _

_They call me a slut, but you and I know the truth. I'm just full of love and looking for a place to give it._

_–Marron Chestnut   
_#######

She felt horrible. She'd spent hours on a plane, sitting next to the only person she never wanted to see again, and it was enough to make her daydream of death. She really hated Bulma because she knew this was intentional. There was no way it was an accident, it was her own private plane after all.

Pan adjusted her sweater and put her bag across her shoulder, not bothering to turn her head to the side and catch a glance at Trunks. He'd been asleep five minutes ago when she looked, she supposed she should wake him, but the thought of touching him was enough to make her sick to the stomach.

It was bad enough that, sitting next him, she couldn't help but think about how his skin felt against hers. She wasn't about to press her luck by actually making physical contact with him. She just didn't understand how her body could respond so yearningly to someone her mind utterly detested. But apparently, how much she hated him was nothing compared to how badly she wanted him still.

All she could do, the entire plane ride, was think about how much she had wished that he had, even if only a very little, given some sign of affection, encouragement.A comforting glance, a look of regretful apology. Maybe even a look of desire that made it clear he was having the same thoughts that she was. He hadn't though and she just didn't understand how she could have given herself so fully to someone who cared so little about her now. Who cared so little about her period. The thought made her livid.

She stomped off the plane without a backward glance. Maybe, if she were lucky, he'd stay asleep and they'd fly him all the way back to Japan.

#######

He listened as her feet pounded off the plane, waiting until he was sure she was gone before he opened his eyes. Even though, for most of the plane ride, he'd had his eyes closed, he could still feel it every time her chocolate gaze landed in his direction. It was like acid burning through his face, through his conscious resistance.

He'd wanted nothing more than to reach across and grab her face, to turn it in the other direction. He'd wanted to shift in his seat, he'd wanted to jump out of the plane, he'd wanted to throw her out of it. He couldn't believe that she could be looking at him like that, angry with him like that, dressed the way she was, and all he could keep thinking about was how good she felt when he touched her.

She certainly wasn't dressed to impress. She was wearing a baggy sweater and very loose fitting sweats, her hair was pulled back and messy in the pony-tail holder, her face was pale, and she looked as distraught as he felt. But that still didn't change his thought process. Not even knowing how much she had to hate him at this moment changed the magnetic field of attraction between them.

He knew she felt it too because she kept shifting farther away in her seat, eyeing him cautiously every now and then. What he really wanted was to find somewhere they could be alone and ease this sexual tension. But admitting that, realizing that, made him angrier than he had been already and made him grab his belongings with Saiyan force.

He couldn't possibly want to sleep with her again. He'd already done that, already suffered the consequence of it, and he should have already purged the desire from his system. Once he had a girl, he didn't typically find that he couldn't stop thinking about her. But that was exactly what this felt like.

He hadn't stopped thinking about Pan since she walked out of his office over a week ago. He hadn't been able to forget the way his body reacted to hers, hadn't been able to ignore how hurt he knew she must be from the entire thing, and yet he hadn't been able to feel sorry about it either. And now he knew, without at doubt, that he'd do it again if given the opportunity.

What did that make him? A predator, a pervert? Maybe a sex-addict? Was it her that made him feel this way or was he just lonely? He honesty didn't know but the whole thing scared him. The whole situation. And he hoped, he honestly hoped, that it was her that did this to him. That there was something special about her and only she could drive him to, and past, that point of distraction. That he wasn't simply using her because he was lonely. But he had the feeling that he'd hit the nail on the head, that using her was exactly what he'd done. What he was hoping to do again. He was a horrible, horrible person.

He would not touch her, he resolved. He wouldn't lay a single finger on her amazing, hot, flesh. And he would never think of her that way again. He tried to tell himself that she was a little girl compared to him, but the second he had the thought his mind worked over every piece of her flesh that proved that thought wrong. Then he nearly lost his self-restraint again.

He couldn't do this to himself. It wasn't fair for him to be thinking about her that way - for either him or her. It wasn't fair that they'd slept together, it was just plain wrong. Earlier, he felt as if, by some strange cosmic act, if he pretended that it hadn't happened it would go away. But he couldn't even seem to get to the part where he was pretending, much less the part where it went away. All he could think of was her. More specifically, her naked, writhing body under his own. And that was as far as he could get in his pretending, which wasn't even remotely close to the target.

He only had to be on this trip for one full day and half of another, he would talk to her, explain that he was sorry about what happened and relieve her of all responsibility, then he would be far away from her. In the meantime, he resolved, he couldn't spend even a second alone with her. He'd lose all self-control if he did.

He strolled off the plane slowly, tipping his head down in greeting to the pilot as he left, and found his way towards the area where the two cars were waiting to take the group to the hotel Bulma had arranged for them. The girls were already in one of the cars, Goten and Ubuu waiting for him in the other. He handed his bag to the driver and walked around to ease his way into the backseat, passenger side.

#######

Something was wrong with the rooms. Pan was afraid to ask what it was. Her heart pounded in her chest as she walked back from the hotel bathroom, back over to the group. They were gathered in a circle discussing arrangements. Upon approach she could tell that Trunks' face was slightly red from quiet anger and she silently prayed it had nothing to do with her. Or, more specifically, her and him.

Then, before she was close enough to hear what they were saying, another thought jarred her and froze her feet to the floor. Hadn't she considered, before she decided to come on this crazy get-together, that maybe Bulma would try and shove Trunks in the same room as her?

She had enough power and prestige to do it, too. And then what would Pan do? She nearly choked on the thought, her whole face turning white. She closed her eyes, drawing her fingers up to her face in silent prayer to anyone who was willing to listen, begging them not to let her fears be confirmed in a second. Then she heard a voice call her name and slowly opened one of her eyes to peek at the group of them. They were all staring at her now.

"Pan," It would be Bra that showed the most concern. "Are you all right?" Her crease-free face wrinkled as she asked, taking a step toward Pan with the intent of resting a consoling hand on her shoulder. Pan stepped back slightly before she responded.

"Just fine. Thanks." Her eyes made it clear that she didn't want Bra's, or anyone else's for that matter, attention, as she found the strength to draw in a breath. "At least, I will be when someone tells me there's no shortage of rooms."

"There's no shortage of rooms, Pan." Bra assured her with a small, forced, laugh as she dropped her well meaning hand back to her side. "We were just discussing where our bags had been dropped off. It seems that the rooms aren't right next to each other, as we had hoped. We'll all have to be separated, you see."

Pan almost smiled, the thought was so pleasing. She could go to her room and not have to see Trunks through the entirety of this insane trip. That would simply be perfect, but she felt there was something more because she felt, more than saw, Trunks' piercing eyes giving her a death glare from beneath his lavender lashes.

"On different floors, even," Goten added, giving his niece a face that spoke volumes. He was clearly uncomfortable with that thought for some reason.

"Okay, so we won't be staying in rooms close to each other, what's the problem?"

"That's it, Pan." Bra told her as if she were a simpleton. "How are we going to spend time with one another if we're all on different floors of the hotel? What an inconvenience. We were trying to get them to change the rooms but, for some reason, they're being extremely difficult."

"Not for 'some reason'," Goten corrected her with unwarranted animosity. "They have no other rooms available. Don't speak as if they didn't try to convenience us."

"Well, you don't have to get so offended simply because-"

"Bra, it's not as if we have to stay in our own rooms, you know." That was Ubuu, trying to keep the peace and interrupt the fight both Bra and Goten seemed to be dying to give to each other.

Pan thought their behavior slightly odd, considering what she knew of Bra's feelings toward her uncle, but didn't have much time to consider it as she heard Ubuu speak. For some reason, his statement made her very uncomfortable. She shifted in her posture at the exact same second Trunks did, both of them glancing awkwardly toward one another.

"So, have they already told us the rooms?" Pan asked, riding over Bra's voice as she formed her response to Ubuu. "Can I pick mine and get unpacked?"

"Yes, no, and yes." Ubuu told her, twirling a key in his fingers and then handing it to her. "They've already taken our stuff and settled in it a room, we told them it didn't matter which they picked for which you see, and so your stuff is in this room." She took the key from him, suspiciously eyeing the number before she snuck another glance at Trunks who was still glaring at her.

She sighed, tried not to blush, and then looked at the number. Forbidding rose in the pit of her stomach as she opened her mouth to ask the question that was burning on her tongue. The words wouldn't come out. They didn't need to.

"Second floor, right next to _me_." Trunks told her as if reading the question in her eyes.

She pushed back the groan that wanted to spill from her throat, forcing herself not to roll her eyes as she made a smile curve her lips upward slightly. "That's just great. Who wants to switch rooms with me? Marron? Goten? Ubuu? Bra?" She quirked her eyebrow up with each name, not able to stop herself from making it clear that she'd rather be killed than that close to him.

"What's wrong with you two?" This was Marron, her voice slightly shrewd, slightly suspicious as she asked. She turned toward Pan, narrowing her eyes, as she continued. "He asked the exact same thing, the exact same way before you came back. What's going on?" She sounded far beyond curious, more like accusing.

Pan ignored her question, almost as if she hadn't opened her mouth at all. "Well, which one of you? Somebody's going to." Pan nearly threatened as she glared, clenching her fists slightly.

"Pan, I've already tried-"

"I'm not talking to you, Trunks-San." Her nostrils flared as she raised her voice, challenging him to continue without even bothering to give him a glimpse of her expression of fierce anger. "Which one of you?" She quirked an eyebrow, daring them to ignore her, danger filling the space quicker than any of them had ever seen.

"I would have," Marron spoke up, her face glowing slightly. "But I just decided that I would probably like the view better from the fifth floor."

_In other words, I shouldn't have ignored you._ Pan thought, narrowing her eyes a little more. Then she opened her mouth and smiled nicely at Marron. "You won't change your mind?"

"I wouldn't do you the injustice, Panny." She simpered as Pan drew her head back in surprise and slight confusion, yet not daring to ask her to explain. Marron did anyway. "A country-bumpkin like you, this might be as close as you ever get to his bed. And we all know how long you've been scheming to get in it."

Pan lost it, right in the lobby of the hotel, she drew back and then charged, throwing herself at Marron's neck. Trunks, as luck would have it, was the first one to realize her intent and grabbed at her, gripping around her waist and drawing her body against his.

She struggled against him, causing a wonderful friction to build up as he held her there, tightening his arms around her waist to keep her in place. Then, as everyone else realized what she was planning to do and broke into astonished chastisement as one, Trunks realized he was unable to calm her. She wouldn't stop grinding against him, trying to get out of his grip and he wasn't going to let her go. But if she kept it up he was going to lose his mind, she felt far too good to be rubbing against him that way right now. He clenched his jaw and leaned down, whispering,

"If you aren't still, and quickly, I'm going to lose it Pan. This isn't exactly a comfortable position to be holding you in."

She realized, almost immediately, what he meant and stilled. Not because of the threat in his tone so much as because his voice, softly feeding her the information, sent shivers down her spine. It was then that she realized she was completely enveloped in his arms, in _Trunks'_ arms, and it was the last place she wanted to be.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Pan-Chan?" Goten questioned as Trunks slowly let her go. She yanked her body the rest of the way out of his arms, crossing her own arms over her chest in a sort-of self-defense mechanism against the brief comfort she felt from his touch.

"You know better than to start fights in the middle of public places. Especially unfair attacks like that." He continued to chastise, staring down at her as if she'd lost her good sense.

"Did you hear," Pan started, her breathing labored with unreleased anger. "What she said to me?" She looked to Marron with contempt. The blond was smirking, not the least bit surprised as she stood there, her eyes calculating every event that occurred.

"Just because, Chestnut, you're a whore who would consider the possibility of something like that happening, doesn't mean everyone else is." Bra made the comment, intending to be Pan's champion, for which Pan was everything less than grateful. She couldn't even think about looking at Trunks as Bra finished the statement, a deep red creeping up her neck and around her ears.

What a time to turn red, she silently cursed herself. Thankful that Marron's, and everyone else's, attention had turned to Bra now. But she couldn't help it, Bra had just, indirectly and without meaning to, called her a whore. She had, after all, not only considered the possibility of sleeping with him but had already done it once.

For a long moment of strained silence, Bra and Marron stared each other down with seething looks that would have killed lesser-willed people. Finally, Marron closed her eyes, opened them, and turned away from Bra without a word. No one else dared to say anything to either of them, or anyone else, for a good while. Then as Pan looked down at her cursed key again and sighed, Marron said,

"You'll have to forgive me, Pan, I didn't realize you were Bra's charity case this year. Aren't you a lucky girl, then? The brother and sister in one day. My, my." She pursed her lips, her eyes shining with satisfaction, and walked away.

Pan thought of rushing her again but knew that none of the guys would let her rip Marron's head off, she looked back down at her key instead, pressing her lips tightly together. Then, before anyone could say anything to her, she turned and walked toward the stairs, not wanting to have to wait for the elevator with Marron. Though, riding the elevator alone with Marron might not be so bad; she could kill her without witnesses. But, she knew, there were always surveillance cameras in those things so that wouldn't exactly work. It was the only thought she had as she lifted her feet up stair after stair until she reached the second floor.

She didn't know why the hell she was here, she hated every single person in her company. Every one of them, Goten was no exception at the moment, he'd done this to her.

None of them saw her leave her room again for the rest of the night.

#######

Marron downed her fifth glass of rum and slammed the glass back down on the bar. She turned to look at the guy sitting next to her, watching her with an admiring stare, and smiled at him with her eyes. She'd forgotten his name, but that didn't really matter, she supposed. It wouldn't be the first time she woke up next to someone she didn't know. She giggled softly and pushed her long, silky-blond hair behind her ear.

The man scooted closer to her, matching her intense gaze, his enchanting gold eyes drawing her in. "What was I saying?" She muttered, her speech slightly slurred. "Ooohhh, yeah. And she just dis..." She paused, tasting the word she was trying to get out. Her face wrinkled with confusion, brow creasing with complete loss. "Disruumm...? Disreach..? Dis-ree-gou-?" Her lips curled with the effort, her head reeling and disoriented. What was she saying again? She didn't remember. Only that it was funny.

Her laughter was accompanied by his as he helped her with the word, sliding his arm around her shoulder and smiling lightly. "Disregarded, sugar?" She smiled, nodding and trying to point her finger directly at him as she continued on. She was pointing a little too far to the left, and too far down to be on target.

"Yesh. Dis-du-gard-eded." She lifted an eyebrow again, wondering if she said it right and shaking her head. It didn't matter, he knew what she meant. "She ignored, dammit," She beat her hand on the table to prove her point, laughing softly to herself at finally getting it right.

"What did she ignore, sugar?"

"Us!" That word was slurred too, and said too loudly. He smiled softly again, patting her shoulders and urging her to continue. She felt good about that. "She ignored our friendship." Then she seemed to be caught up with the word 'friendship', repeating it again and again, smiling each time. She rose the word at the end, making it into a question. Then she repeated it again, slurring the 'ship' even more than before and giggling. He sighed but she barely heard it and definitely didn't care.

She picked up her glass again, eyeing it curiously and turning it upside down. She beat on the bottom of it and then sat it back down with a pout. "More." Was her simple request, her face lighting as she said it. He shook his head as she pouted in his direction.

"I think you've had enough, darlin'. What's your room number?"

"Oooohhhh." She drew the word out, giggling in the middle and at the end of it. "I see. I've had enough." As she said it she ran her hands ungracefully over his face, ending with her fingers sliding over his lips. He laughed again.

"Yes, more than enough. What's your room number, sugar?"

"Do you want to walk me to my room, then?" She asked, jumping off the stool and stumbling into his side with a 'umph'.

"Yes." He answered as he steadied her, getting off his own stool and putting his arm on her back to keep her up.

"Oh, okay." She pulled away from him and started to dig through her purse, nearly falling three times in the process before pulling out the key. She handed it to him with a broad smile but no farther comment.

He sighed, shaking his head. The poor girl thought he was going to take advantage of her and she wasn't even protesting it. She was, in fact, encouraging it. He had to get her to her room before somebody more willing to be a pervert came along and took advantage of the situation. She was pretty as peach pie too, so he wouldn't feel right just leaving her to fend for herself.

#######

She didn't know what she was doing, she silently admitted to herself as tried to still her anxious nerves. She shoved the uncertainty deep inside herself and swallowed hard, bringing her hand up slowly to knock quietly on the door. She regretted doing it immediately.

Maybe he was busy, or he wasn't in the room. Maybe he simply wouldn't answer. And, she thought with an increasing edge of uneasiness, maybe he would. What would she say? What would she do? What if she couldn't even speak, just stood there looking like an idiot with her mouth hanging open? What then?

The door opened before she could consider the answer, before she could come up with a suitable solution. Of course he'd heard her knock, he was Saiyan wasn't he? She silently cursed herself as she bit her lips and smiled nervously at him. But her mind went blank, she had absolutely nothing to say.

He relieved her of the awkward moment that was sure to ensue when he stepped back to silently invite her in. That was throwing her for a loop, his eyes looked as if he knew everything she wanted to say but couldn't, she hadn't expected him to invite her in.

What was he expecting her to say? Bra drew in a deep breath as she stepped into Goten's hotel room, wringing her hands nervously. She was here now, she had to say something. Why had she thought to come anyway?

#######

"Who the hell are you? No, don't answer that, never mind who the hell you are. What the hell are you doing to her?" Ubuu's face was turning red as he yelled the question, looking absolutely furious. There was a guy holding Marron against her room door, from his perspective the whole thing looked absolutely incriminating - she was rubbing her hands up and down his chest, he held a silly smirk on his face, and she was clearly inebriated. It didn't matter what this jerk said, there was nothing that was going to stop Ubuu from pounding his head in.

He could only see red, only hear the roaring in his ears that told him he wanted to taste that man's blood. He hated, more than anything, watching what Marron did to herself.

It wasn't the first time he'd caught her like this, with someone she didn't know, doing something she wouldn't remember in the morning. And every time he felt something inside of him ache, break, yearn to save her. He wanted to be her champion but she would never let him. He'd begged her to let him help her a million times, but she never came to him with her problems until she went to someone else first. And it absolutely killed him.

Now, clenching his fists and watching the smirk wipe off the guy's face to be replaced with caution and guilt, he felt that anger and pain rising dangerously again. This would never have happened if Marron trusted him enough to share her problems, he thought while walking closer to them.

"Get away from her." Ubuu commanded, gritting his teeth and trying to maintain his anger.

"Listen partner, you've got the wrong idea. I was just tryin' to get this lady to her room, is all. Nothin' more."

"Sure looks like more to me." Ubuu's voice was deadly calm. He knew that veins were popping out on his forehead from the way the guy was staring at him, but he didn't care. What mattered was that he hadn't blasted this bastard yet. Nothing else. He deserved a medal for his patience.

"She's drunk." The guy stated the obvious, distractedly pushing her hand away from his chest and giving her a reproving frown in the process. Ubuu sighed, running his fingers through his black hair.

"That much is painfully clear."

"She your lady?" Ubuu heard Marron giggle from behind the guy, smiling sweetly and waving at him as if she just realized he was there. He managed a weak upturn of the lips, giving her a small nod.

"Yeah, she is." He lied, narrowing his eyes and silently daring the guy to make a move or start denying that it was true. He didn't.

"I thought as much. Well, listen, she's pretty upset about something and I've only been able to catch snippets. You might be wantin' to have a talk with her."

"I don't need your advice in the matter, thanks. I'm sure I know her better than some stranger she met at the open bar of a hotel room."

The guy sighed and smiled softly as Marron giggled again and pushed her way, unsteadily, away from him. She stumbled into Ubuu and buried her head in his chest.

"We were just going to...We were going to...?" She frowned, looking up at him and wrinkling her nose in confusion.

"How much did she have to drink?" Ubuu asked, giving the guy a slightly decent look as he wrapped his arms around Marron.

"My room!" She shouted happily, having figured it out. "But you're here now. So you can come instead." Her grin was wide now, as if she'd solved some big problem.

"A little more than too much. I walked in on the last half of it, I think. I saw her take three glasses before I told her she'd had too much. You really should keep your eye on that one, she's exactly the type of girl men go a prowlin' for. But look, buddy," He continued, catching the dangerous look in Ubuu's eyes. "I'm not that type of man. I swear I was just going to get her in her room and make sure she was okay."

"I might be crazy," Ubuu sighed, taking the key the man had just reached his hand out to give him. "But I believe you. I'd leave, if I were you, before I changed my mind." The guy didn't waste any time, nodding solemnly and heading down the hall without a backward glance. Ubuu sighed as Marron ran her hand 'seductively' up his chest. It was going to be a long night.

_To be continued..._

**sidenote:** I just want to make this comment now, because I know what you're all thinking and what you're going to reply with; don't discount Marron's character as 1-dimensional just yet. (i.e. you think she's a stupid, mean, slut that just needs to go die. Or you hate that I depict her as said things and wish I would stop being so cliche.) There's more to Marron's character in this fic than meets the eye, so give her a chance to redeem herself before you cast your stones. 'Kay?


	14. Appearances II

Rainwater  
Chapter 13: Appearances II   
Rating: R for sexual situations and suggestions, adult topics and language.  
_WitchyPrincess_

_Keeping up Appearances II_

_Pretty people smile a lot. Have you ever noticed it? They smile because they know, no matter where they go, they'll always be someone watching, someone looking at them that's willing to return that smile ten-fold._

_Sometimes I wonder if they ever mean it when they smile. I know plenty of pretty people that aren't really happy on the inside, you know? And I just wonder what they're thinking when they light the room with their empty happiness. I mean, do they think they're fooling everybody? They don't fool me._

_Ugly people smile too. They hold their head high and walk with dignity, pretending glee as a self-defense mechanism. They smile, don't you know, because they realize that if they don't, they'll always be someone there, staring, laughing _at _them instead of with them. _

_And on the inside, I know, they're just as empty as those gorgeous people. They hold the same feelings in common with them. _

_But not people like me. People like me don't smile, they don't laugh. They don't even try to pretend. We hold our heads down low, looking at the soles of our feet, because we're not pretty enough to be noticed or ugly enough to be stared at. We fade into the background and we're used to it._

_–Pan Son  
_#######

All his thoughts ground to a halt; all his words were born and died on his tongue, never making it past his lips. He forgot everything the moment she opened the door, every sensible thing he'd been preparing to say. All logic, all reason, flew from his brain as he stared down at her. He'd never seen anyone look so perfect before.

She was wearing green, which was automatically a good thing, and her hair was flowing in waves past her shoulders. The nightdress she had on was nothing like the sweater she'd been wearing earlier, and earlier he'd wanted to rip her clothing off. It was silk and clung to her body very appropriately. The darkness of her hair made the color seem more alluring to him.

Her eyes seemed, to him, to be darker somehow. Her lips appeared fuller, a deeper red. And maybe he was imagining things but, it seemed as if there was natural glow around her face that made him instantly think she was beautiful. He couldn't catch enough of his breath to explain to her why he was standing outside her door.

Finally, when he was able to regain some semblance of self-control, he cleared his throat and announced,

"We need to talk, but you need to put more clothes on first."

"You can't tell me what to do, Trunks-San. I'll wear what I want and I'll talk to who I want. And I don't want to talk to _you_." She started to slam the door in his face but he caught it, pushed it open and, softly moved her back.

"Let me rephrase then," He sighed, making his way into the room despite her contempt. "We're _going_ to talk and, if you don't want me to ravish you on this hotel room floor, you _will_ put more clothes on."

"And if I do want you to?" She questioned lightly, smirking deviously and sending a shiver all the way through him. He sighed, trying to remind himself that he wasn't going to talk to her again after this. Trying to convince himself that he didn't find the way she was looking at him sexy, and he absolutely did _not_ want to do very naughty things to her at this moment in time.

His stomach clenched with what he suspected was butterflies, a feeling that he'd never truly experienced before, as he shook his head and tried to rid himself of those thoughts. But, Dende, he'd love to _touch_ her again.

"You don't." He stated firmly, dryly. "But if you did, we'd still talk."

"Oh, then your threat was empty. So I don't have to change after all." She deduced, curving her lips into another smile as she sat down on the sofa and looked at him expectantly.

He was surprised; she wasn't going to put up more of a fight then that? He had expected yelling, screaming, fighting. He had expected to have to hold her down and force her to listen to what he had to say. He'd thought it would take him twenty minutes to even convince her to open her door to him. But here he was.

"Well, get to it so I can go to sleep. I suppose this is the reason this whole get-together event was orchestrated, to get us to talk. So, the sooner it's done, the sooner I can get away from you."

"That's blunt." He stated, raising an eyebrow in self defense and taking a seat opposite her.

"You expected anything less? Have I been anything less than honest with you all this while?"

"Well, I don't know Pan, you've not really been much of anything with me. We just sort-of..." His voice trailed off and he paled a little, visibly unnerved by what he was trying to say.

"Screwed each other." She finished his statement, causing him to blush with embarrassment before nodding slightly.

"I guess you could put it that way."

"And now you want to tell me how sorry you are that you let yourself get carried away. That you don't know what got into you and you'll never make the mistake again. That if you could take it back, you would and this whole ugly mess would be behind us. But you can't, can you? So there's no need for the speech. I get it."

"I wouldn't call it an 'ugly mess'." He frowned, looking at her with an expression that stated how put-out he was by her comment. She smirked.

"I would. It definitely wasn't pleasant." She stated defiantly, rolling her eyes.

"I mean, I don't know about all that," He started, getting a little angrier by her vehement confession.

"Well _I do_ so move along with this speech. It's not like it matters."

"It does matter, Pan, it wasn't _horrible_ or anything like that."

"What's your point here, Trunks-San?" She changed the subject, not willing to argue with him anymore. "Does it matter what I thought of it? It's not going to happen again.

"Aren't we supposed to be discussing what a huge mistake you made by losing yourself like that? Aren't you supposed to be telling me it wasn't anyone's fault, or something like that, as you no doubt intended to do?"

"It most certainly was someone's fault. You threw yourself at me, Pan. And if you don't stop calling me Trunks-_San_ I'm going to lose it." He challenged, throwing her an angry look.

"How dare you, Trunks-_San_! You _jerk_! In case you didn't know, you kissed _me_. You pulled _me_ back into your office and, I doubt I need to remind you of the rest." She had risen from her seat during that explosion of anger and, as she finished, flopped back down again.

"No, but you need to remind yourself. I mean, I never heard you protest, it was quite the contrary as a matter of fact. I never heard you complain once, for you to think it was so horrible now." He pouted, not willing to admit how much her statement had wounded his pride. He had been called many things in his life but, bad in bed had never been one of them.

"There's no need for this discussion. If you want to think of our encounter as something pleasant then, by all means, do that. But I won't be indulging along with your overactive imagination. Besides, you've said all you need to say to me. Good-night Trunks-San."

"What was horrible about it?" He ignored her, gritting his teeth and trying not to be angry. But he couldn't help it, for some reason her words swelled something inside him and he couldn't leave now. He wasn't through with her. He would not have her thinking he was 'horrible' at anything he did. Especially when it involved his hands.

"Do you want details, Trunks-San?" She slightly teased, sitting back in her chair with an annoyed expression. He nodded, face stern.

"Please."

"You can't be serious." She countered, disbelief in her look.

"I am. Indulge me."

"We've done quite enough indulging, don't you think?"

He rolled his eyes. "Answer me."

"Your hands." She stated, shifting slightly.

"What about my hands?" He questioned, voice edgy and she was sure she'd hit a sore spot with him. She smiled.

"They were awkward, rough." Pan remembered exactly how rough and, with a tinge of embarrassment, exactly how she hadn't hated it. In honesty, nothing about Trunks was 'horrible' but she rather enjoyed the wounded look on his face as she told him these slight lies. There were some things that she hadn't liked about their encounter, but there were also some things that had been strangely erotic and passionate. And there was nothing wrong with passion.

She wondered silently if he'd believe her, he had to know his hands were perfect. But her teasing had to be hitting its target because his face took on a scowl and he leaned forward in his chair.

"And?" He questioned.

"And?" She echoed, smiling deviously. Payback was a great thing, he'd hurt her so much a few days ago she was glad to be receiving some of her dignity back. "And your kisses were sloppy, if you must know. The whole thing was fast, clumsy, and kind of juvenile. Like you had no control over your emotions at all. It ended abruptly, too, which just made it seem all the more awful."

"Well, I didn't hear you saying anything about it then." He countered, face scrunched in annoyance as he tried to remember whether he agreed with her or not. She suppressed a laugh.

"You didn't hear me saying anything about _anything _then. I believe I just got up and left, and can you blame me?" She waited a second for him to respond, noticing the angry twitch his eye was taking on and deciding to play on it.

She leaned forward, a small 'sympathetic' pout on her lips, and shook her head. She knew she shouldn't tease him, had a feeling that doing it could only lead to chaos in the end, was well aware of what the consequences for toying with a Saiyans pride were, but she couldn't help herself. She couldn't stop her mouth from spewing the words that were bound to push him over the edge. She was angry, she was blood-thirsty for vengeance. She had to receive her due payback.

"What's wrong? You didn't actually expect me to tell you I thought it was wonderful and come crawling back for more, now did you? I wouldn't touch you again, Trunks-San, with a ten foot pole."

It wasn't until the words were out that she heard the challenge in the last sentence and instantly regretted it. Her heart started to throb quickly right after the words left her, knowing that in a second he'd make her pay for what she'd just said. Knowing that now he had to do something in order to retaliate against her challenge, he wouldn't be Vegita's son if he didn't. She began to pray that the earth would slide open and swallow her whole before he had a chance to react. It didn't.

He was up in a second, grabbing her and pulling her with him. His face was set, anger making his cheeks red, his eyes were blurry with it. She swallowed hard as his grip tightened, face darkening for a second before he regained himself.

"What did you say?" He asked softly, too softly. She closed her eyes as he waited for her to respond.

"Nothing. Get your hands off me."

"Not until you tell me how wonderful you really think they are." He bit out, backing her around the couch.

"I've already told you what I thought of your hands." She informed him, opening her eyes as she realized she was moving. Her ebony orbs sparkled with anger as she shook, trying to get out of his hold. But he was furious with her, she knew she'd never win; besides, she was afraid to provoke him anymore. There was no telling what the consequences would be if she did.

"You were lying, I want you to tell me the truth." His eyes were like fire now, boring into her as she held her breath.

"I was not lying." She finally managed, her voice cracking at the end; her back had made contact with the wall. He didn't stop moving, kept walking until he pressed painfully close to her, their bodies lightly brushing. She closed her eyes again, unsure if it was from fear or the fact that every part of her was lighting up. She wanted desperately to rub against him, to caress him. She wanted to reach up and touch him but she didn't dare, upset with her own self for the instinct.

"Yes you were." He stated plainly, lowering his head to her neck as she shifted her leg, bringing it slightly around his own. His breath trickled all the way down her spine as he continued to talk, making her shiver from the inside out. "You love my hands and I'm going to make you admit it. I'm going to make you _scream_ it."

"You're standing too close to me, Trunks," Her voice was airy, breathing hitched as she told him, trying to back away from him while knowing it was impossible. "Get out of my hotel room. I don't want you to touch me. I'd rather _die_ than let you touch me." Her voice was slowly getting weaker as his face moved closer to the skin on her neck. Her heart pounding so fast and violent she was sure he could feel it in every part of him.

He laughed softly, teasing her skin with his amusement. "That's why your arms are around my neck then?" He questioned, slowly running his hands up her sides.

Her eyes opened wide, looking up with pure shock. He raised his head to gather her expression, to feed in her confusion. It was obvious that she hadn't even been aware of those treacherous limbs encircling enemy skin the way they had. He smiled broadly before sliding his cool hands up her torso, onto her shoulders, fingers caressing the skin teasingly.

"Stop it." She pleaded weakly, pulling her arms from around his neck. "Don't do this. You remember what a mistake it was?" She thought her best option, at this point, was to try and talk some sense into him. He clearly didn't know what the hell he was doing anymore. They'd both be better off if she made him realize he didn't want her because she couldn't fight him off; she'd never been able to tell Trunks Briefs no and she didn't think today was the day to test her limits.

"I remember it wasn't horrible." He countered, running his hands down her arms seductively. She exhaled deeply, trying not to close her eyes. Trying to keep her mind focused on the task at hand.

"Then you remember I'm fourteen _years_ younger than you and you said you'd never find me attractive. You remember that you're not the least bit interested in me and you're almost old enough to be my father. You remember-" She lost her entire train of thought when his lips pressed softly on her skin, his hands running gently down her hips and pulling her closer to him. She nearly cried out in surprise, and pleasure, when his tongue found that spot on her neck that made her forget everything she was saying to him.

"I remember," He started when he pulled his head away, a smirk in his voice. "That spot made you cry my name." He teased, completely ignoring every reason she'd just given him for what he was doing being wrong.

"Stop this." She pleaded weakly, trying to move out of his grasp. But he didn't. He didn't even acknowledge that he'd heard her as he trailed kisses up her neck, across her jawbone.

"Tell me how wonderful you think my hands are, how badly you want me to continue despite your protests, and I'll consider it." He finally stated, pulling his head up to look into her eyes, making sure his words slid past his lips and right across hers.

She fought the urge to kiss him as she nodded her head, tingling from the way his hands were massaging her stomach, making crazy knots fill her gut and ease all the way up to her throat. She opened her mouth to tell him, to do anything to get him to stop this, but the words didn't seem to want to flow.

His hands moved farther down, easing up the edge of her nightgown and her head dropped back, softly banging against the wall. She was shaking, she realized, as his lips kissed the bridge of her nose before moving downwards. She lifted her head to assist him, making their lips meet without thought of consequence.

A needy moan fell from her lips as they broke apart, his hands finding their target. She drew in a deep gulp of air and bit her lip, trying to keep the words he'd asked for from falling off her tongue.

"Tell me to stop again Pan, and I will." He provided softly, kissing her cheek and pulling back with a smirk.

She tried to force the word out but the only noise she seemed to make was another moan, this one more strained, a muffled cry of frustration. She couldn't even remember why she was trying to tell him to stop, just that she should, and, very quickly lost all motivation to. What his hands were doing, it felt wonderful, and she found that she was murmuring just that as he slid the gown over her head and let it fall to the floor. She'd also told him that if he stopped, she'd murder him.

And he didn't disappoint her.

This time was different than the last. His hands lingered in every spot he touched, every move he made was calculated and mind-numbing. Every single touch sent her over the edge, and everything happened slower, more patiently.

There was still that animal-like urgency in their embraces, in their kisses, but now everything lasted longer and happened with a painful sort of slowness that sent guilty pleasures all the way through her body right into the core of her being. She lost herself in him, she felt the exact moment when she slipped away, but was helpless to stop herself.

He was doing something inside her, to her _soul_, that shook her being and knocked her completely senseless. She'd never be the same again, she knew, when this was over. It was like she'd given herself over to him in every possible way. And, with the way that he was touching her, tasting her, savoring the moment so possessively, she felt that he knew it too. That he knew he owned her and he liked it. Every time he moved against her, she forgot everything but him. Her own name even slipped her mind a few times until she heard him whisper it softly against her ear.

Distantly she was aware that her mind was wondering if this was what love was. And if it was, what the hell was she going to do when he left this time. But, in those moments of desperate desire, she didn't care about anything but him. The way he touched her, the way he moved with her, the way he held her, nothing but his hands, his mouth, his body. And she certainly didn't care if her world fell apart when he was gone, all that really made the difference was he was right there at that moment. Tomorrow made no difference today.

#######

"You wanted to talk to me?" Goten asked Bra as he shut his room door and turned around. He silently wondered what was wrong with him. Why had he invited her into his room? Why hadn't he just suggested they take a walk around the hotel or something? It would have been smarter considering the way his eyes examined her while her back was to him.

She looked good, though. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail and she was wearing a white tank-top with and black skirt. He could see a good bit of her legs as well as the beautiful outline of her shape. When had she become so pretty? He wondered thoughtfully, closing his eyes for a moment to try and control his hormones. He was a grown man, for Dende's sake, not a fourteen year old boy.

"I." She stopped, turning around to face him with worry creasing her gorgeous face. He sighed, waiting patiently and trying to fight the urge that made him want to pull her into his arms.

Her face turned slightly red and he could see her breathing increase. She looked like she was going to cry, but he knew she wouldn't. He wasn't sure if he had ever seen Bra cry, not since she was older. Now that he thought on it, not even when she was younger. After she hit double digits in age he hadn't seen a single tear slide past her cheeks.

He didn't fight the urge this time, as he looked into her glassy blue eyes. He walked over to her and drew her into his arms, rubbing his hands across her back and pressing her face into his chest.

"What's wrong, Bra? Are you okay." She only seemed to get worse when he touched her, her breathing becoming more labored and her body started to shake. He silently prayed that she wasn't crying, he didn't know what he'd do if she started crying. He already wanted to smother her with kisses when she was calm and composed.

"I'm okay, really, I promise." She told him, pulling her body away quickly. He was both glad and disappointed that her voice wasn't quivering. At least that would have given him a reason to kiss her. He smiled lightly, backing away from her.

"Then why do you look like your world just fell apart?" He challenged, serious concern taking over his voice as he saw her pained expression. "You're not okay, Bra. I don't think you've been okay since you got back. I want to know what's wrong, what's really wrong, and I won't take one of your run-around answers." He crossed his arms and gave her a proper glare, trying to make her realize that she meant a lot to him; her well being meant a lot to him.

He was not going to sit back and watch her fall apart without saying anything, she'd been so unhappy for so long. Everyone knew it, could see it in her eyes. At least, he always could and had always wondered if everyone else could.

"Sit down, tell me from beginning to end."

"I can't." She voiced weakly, ignoring his request that she sit.

"You've got to talk to someone or whatever it is will eat you up from the inside." He told her softly, stepping closer to her and placing a hand on her shoulder. "And I'm listening."

"I know you are, but you're the only one. And _you're_ the one I can't tell." She told him angrily, shoving his hand away from her shoulder. "Don't do this to me, Goten, don't ask me to tell you again. I might just take you up on it." It sounded like a warning.

It only served to make him more curious as to what was wrong with her. Only made him want to push her into a chair and make her tell him everything. His mind was reeling with a million questions. Why was it that she couldn't tell him, of all people? Why did she sound angry, bitter, hurt all at once? Why were her eyes looking up at him as if he'd broken her heart?

"Why can't you tell me, Bra?" He asked, walking closer to her still. She backed away again.

"Because I can't, Goten, that's why."

"Then why are you here?" He was getting angry with the way she was pushing him away and yet she was the one that had come to his hotel room door. He hadn't asked her to come, hadn't made her knock on his door.

"Because you're the only one I wanted to be with." She answered, lowering her eyes so that she could only see the carpet.

For some reason, that response made his anger ebb away, made his heart drop into his stomach. He was shocked by his response, shocked to find that he'd pulled her into his arms again. And this wasn't exactly the 'comfort' hug the other had been, she was a little too close, his hands were a little too low.

"You can tell me anything," He whispered into her hair, closing his eyes. "Anytime. All you have to do is trust me, Bra."

"I trust you with my life, Goten." She whispered, the sound of her words being blocked by his shoulder. "I just can't tell you this, it'd upset you. You'd hate me."

He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, shaking his head in the process. "There's nothing you could do that would make me hate you." He promised, stepping back a little and placing a hand under her chin, forcing her to look in his eyes. "Nothing, Bra."

"You promise?" She asked softly, her eyes full of fear.

"The most honest, solemn promise I've ever made. Nothing." He rubbed his thumb softly across her cheek as she sighed.

"I hope you mean that." She stated as if she were about to test his limits; and, as he opened his mouth to ask her why she'd said that, she leaned up on tip-toes and pressed her full lips against his.

He was too shocked to move at first, as she moved against him, and he merely stood there like an idiot. Then he realized that she was kissing him, that her mouth was moving over his, slowly and with more passion than he'd ever felt before, and he responded. Not by pushing her away, as he knew he was supposed to, but by drawing her up against him and taking the kiss into his own control.

He literally swept her up, off her feet, as he pressed closer to her, his tongue finding her own in an artful dance. Her arms laced around his neck and he forgot everything in the midst of holding her.

It wasn't until her hands slid down his neck, past his torso, and under his shirt that he remembered. This was Bra Briefs, daughter of the Saiyan Prince. And he was Goten, Goten Son who'd done something incredibly stupid the other day. Something that hadn't seemed stupid until this very moment. He pulled his head back, pushing her away slowly, softly, as they caught their breath.

"Bra-"

"Don't, Goten, don't you dare ask me what's gotten into me. I'll scream if you do. I know you felt that, I certainly did. And I won't tell you I'm sorry, Paris or no Paris, I've wanted to do that for _years_."

"Bra, you don't understand," He tried, jumping in the second she paused because she'd been talking so fast he was sure she'd never stop. His breath still wasn't back to normal, but he had to say this.

"I thought that was _amazing_," The 'amazing' came out a little stronger than he'd planned as his eyes made contact with hers. She looked surprised, and thrilled, as she blushed. "But-"

"No, don't follow that with a 'but' anything. Nothing else has to matter. I want you."

He groaned, never knowing that simple words could have such an effect on him. He drew in a deep breath, trying to fight with reason as his body screamed at him to pull her back into his arms.

"I've always wanted you, Goten. I _belong_ to you and I don't give a damn about Paris."

He groaned again, closing his eyes as if he were in physical pain. "You've got to stop saying stuff like that to me, Bra, or I'll never be able to tell you. And then you'll hate _me_."

"I don't want you to tell me whatever it is you're going to say. And I could never hate you, not really. If you only knew how much I lo-"

"Bra, _please_ let me say this. And then you can tell me anything you want to. _Everything_ you want to. But I can pretty much assure you that you won't want to finish that statement when I'm through." His eyes had widened, his head spinning with panic and confusion.

How had this happened? Yesterday, he was certain about everything in his life, and today he didn't know anything. Today she had him questioning everything, right down to what he really wanted. _Who_ he really wanted. He was beginning to think the answer was her.

But that couldn't be. Especially not after he told her what he was about to. She'd want to kill him, she'd certainly hate him when he told her. He sighed and opened his mouth, wanting, more than anything, for the words he was about to tell her to be a lie. Wishing they weren't true.

"I asked Paris to marry me yesterday. She said yes. We're engaged, Bra, and I'm going to marry her." He stressed the last part to make sure she understood that, no matter what, he wouldn't change his mind. Having Bra's love or not having her love wouldn't make a difference.

She stood silent, motionless, for a few moments, her mouth hanging open. Then she closed her eyes, as if in great pain, and turned around. She didn't say anything to him as her shoulders sagged, simply walked until she found the door handle, turned it, and walked right out of his room. He had a feeling she'd just walked out of his life and the mere thought made him feel as if a million pounds of weight had been pressed onto his chest.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. He didn't dare consider what had just happened and what it meant. All he knew was this was probably it. He'd probably just pushed her away from him forever and he couldn't blame her. But how was he supposed to know how much he meant to her yesterday? Yesterday when he didn't even know she meant this much to him? He couldn't go against his word to Paris now.

Not on a spur-of-the-moment emotion. He'd loved Paris for the longer half of his life, they'd shared everything together, and he wasn't going to drop her for one moment of incredibly intense passion. He was sure about Paris, had always been sure of her, and nothing had ever shaken that before. Until now. He was sure it would pass, whatever he'd just felt for Bra, and then he and Paris could live their lives.

He hated that Bra had been hurt in the process. But he couldn't just turn on everything he knew for sure because of this one incident. That would make him crazy, thoughtless, inconsiderate. Besides, what he'd just felt was nothing but shock and sympathy. Maybe Bra would understand that one day, maybe one day she wouldn't hate him.

Maybe one day he wouldn't wonder what might have happened tonight if there was no Paris.

_To be continued..._

**sidenote:** since ff.net wasn't working, the update's a day late. Sorry but there was nothing I could do about it. Also, if you don't like the "R" rating of my story, _don't read it_. If my story gets reported, if my account gets deleted, I am not going to repost on ff.net. It's simply not worth all the trouble, much as I love you guys (besides the fact that my stories **don't** violate the "R" rating) I just won't do it. Thanks!


	15. Explosions

Rainwater  
Chapter 14: Explosions   
Rating: R for sexual situations and suggestions, adult topics and language.  
_WitchyPrincess___

_Explosions_

_Do you know what it's like to feel your heart drop from your chest and fall into your knees? For your breath to hitch, for all logical thoughts to fade away, for everything to drift out of your grasp while you try and catch your breath?_

_To stand and watch the world from a distance, having your ears ring and your stomach clinch in pain? To feels tears prickling in the back of your eyelids, to close your eyes and blink very hard, and not be able to cry? _

_Do you know what it's like to cry invisible tears and mourn someone you've never known or had? How it feels to have your insides ripped out of you, sliced open, and displayed for everyone to see without being physically damaged? To feel weight press so harshly on your body you think you're going to suffocate to death, and yet, when you look up there's nothing there? Do you know what it's like to drown in your own sorrow?_

_Do you know what it's like to die and still be alive? To feel your soul drift up and out of your body, feel your hope rise and disappear, feel every good thought and feeling snap and drop inside you in an instant?_

_I do._

_–Bra Briefs  
_#######

Waking up was hard, but moving was actually harder. Forcing herself to get out of bed once she'd opened her eyes, forcing herself to get dressed once she'd gotten out of bed, was a chore she didn't think she'd be able to accomplish. Yet, somehow, she managed it.

She looked at herself in the mirror, sighing distantly and feeling her throat squeeze tight again. She hated that feeling, that scorching, sorrowful feeling that announced she wanted to cry but couldn't. She hated the way her eyes burned but nothing ever fell.

She was a monster - only monsters couldn't express how they felt. And she certainly couldn't. That was the only explanation for it. She was a terrible, horrible person who deserved to be alone. After last night, she wouldn't doubt it. This was punishment of some kind.

How could he? She thought bitterly, throwing her face cream at the mirror. The entire thing cracked, starting at the center and spreading all the way to the edges. The cream splattered all over the room, over her face and upper body.

"That's about twenty years bad luck." Bra murmured to herself, breaking into a soft giggle of true anger as she wiped some of the creme off. It wasn't like it mattered. Her whole life had been bad luck. Her entire existence had been some sort of laughing, running joke with the Good Spirits. She was nothing but a comedy to them and last night had been the season finale.

She hated herself. Why had she kissed him? Why had she told him all those things? Why had he seemed as if he liked it only to tell her she was nothing to him in the end? Why had he picked Paris over her when she'd offered her entire _self_ to him?

Why couldn't she hate him?

After last night, he deserved to be hated. Even he knew it, he'd told her she would hate him. But she didn't. She respected him even, because he'd been able to tell her the truth even though she was throwing herself at him. He took the liberty of filling her in before she completely made an ass of herself. He didn't take advantage of her and he didn't cheat on Paris.

But why had he fed her that lie about enjoying it? Why had he looked so damn sorry that he was marrying Paris, if he was happy about it? If he thought Bra was a raving lunatic for throwing herself at him and Paris was the only woman he ever wanted, for the rest of his life.

But before she could even think of any of those things, she needed to know the answer to one question first: why the hell couldn't she hate him?

#######

He wasn't there when she opened her eyes. She hadn't expected him to be there but the realization hurt more than the assumption had late in the night. They'd somehow found her bed but, when things were over, they'd never touched one another. Not even accidently brushing arms, no contact. He rested rigidly for awhile, looking stricken and as if he were going to be sick, while she drifted off to sleep. And then, she guessed, he left.

She wanted to cry but she didn't have the energy. She was too tired to even be upset with herself. And she couldn't find it in her to be angry with him. This was his fault, she thought sorrowfully. But she couldn't find the part of her that was bitter, that wanted to get revenge, she only wanted to curl up and sleep the pain away.

She never wanted to feel this way again.

But she was afraid she would, was afraid she wouldn't be able to ever say no to him. After last night, she wouldn't be surprised if she never felt the same way about him again. She still felt all tingly inside when she thought of him. And the possibility that he might never touch her again made her want to scream.

Distantly, she began to wonder if Bulma had been right after all. Could you change a man with sexual encounters? Vegita had settled down, hadn't he? And Trunks was certainly more civil and easily attainable than Vegita. If it were possible, maybe she should give it a try.

She tasted the thought as she sat up, pulling the covers with her. Maybe she could make him love her, make him care for her at least. Maybe she could win this, even though she'd promised herself she wouldn't even try. Perhaps it was worth it.

And then she laughed softly at herself and dropped her head back on the pillow. Who was she kidding? She was Pan Son, not some super model. She wasn't even ordinary type pretty. She couldn't seduce Trunks and she definitely couldn't make him love her. The closest she'd ever come was last night, and that was only by some fluke and offending his pride. The same trick wouldn't work twice.

She closed her eyes and tried not to admit how much knowing he'd never want her again hurt. But she couldn't ignore it and the tears slowly trickled past her cheeks as she drifted off to sleep again.

#######

Everything was fuzzy when she opened her eyes, the world appearing to be upside-down. She was dizzier than she'd ever been in her life, and very confused as to where she was.

The only thing she knew for sure was that someone had their arms wrapped around her. Someone was holding her tightly, softly rubbing one of their hands across her back. She groaned, trying to move away but getting nauseous the second she attempted it.

"Shit," She whispered, closing her eyes abruptly and trying to turn over. Everything was spinning and she was sure that she was going to be sick right where she was. She felt someone lean over her, lifting her head lightly and guiding it. Before she could stop herself, everything in her stomach heaved up and fell out of her.

She thought she heard it land in something solid but she wasn't sure, she dropped her head again before she formed more than one solid thought:

After last night, she'd never take more than one drink of hard liquor when she was upset.

The person was rubbing her back again as she closed her eyes and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

It was brightness that finally disturbed her enough to get her to open her eyes. She squinted, looking towards the window with a grimace, trying to block the sun out. For a moment she couldn't remember where she was or how she'd gotten there. Then she registered that she was in a hotel room somewhere and she wasn't alone. She felt the weight of another person beside her and she groaned.

What had she done last night? Obviously something stupid. She rolled over, her stomach churning in protest as she did so, and looked at the person. Her eyes widened in surprise at who she saw. Panic seized through every bone in her body, she tensed, calmed, then tensed again. She couldn't believe this was happening. Think, Marron, she chided herself. What did you do last night?

She was flirting with a man, she remembered that much. Then Ubuu came and pulled her away. She remembered being happy to see him, remembered that it didn't matter who she was around as long as she was around someone. She remembered being very upset. She also remembered Ubuu undressing her, but after that there was nothing.

Her breath started to come out too quickly as she tried to calm herself. She'd just slept with her best friend. This couldn't be happening. She couldn't have done this. He'd never forgive her, he'd been in love with her for years. But she hadn't ever encouraged it in any way...until last night. She groaned aloud, grabbing her head. _What had she done?_

This was going to ruin her life. This wasn't just colossal, this was earth-shattering kind of horrible. This was gruesome, not just a little bad. This was devastating. She'd never toyed with Ubuu's emotions before, she'd always been straight-forward with him. She played with all her other friends, guys and girls alike, toying with them, pushing them until they reached their limits, but never Ubuu. There were only two people that she trusted enough to be even slightly civil to. Bra and Ubuu.

Last night Bra had broken that trust concerning her. And, last night, she had done the same to Ubuu. He'd be horrified when he woke up and found out that she was distraught about last night. He'd be heartbroken when he discovered that she didn't really want him.

What was she going to do? Pretend like she didn't remember? That was it, what she'd have to do, everything else was out of the question. Besides, why had he taken advantage of her when she was drunk anyway? Couldn't he see that she was out of her mind? Dende help her, she couldn't remember ever being this scared before in her life.

#######

Trunks' head was spinning. He was feeling sick to the stomach, guilty. Last night he had been absolutely out of control and he didn't know where to put the blame. But she had just been so damn attractive in that gown - the gown he'd _told_ her to change out of if she didn't want to be ravished - and she'd been so infuriating with her insults. He knew she was pushing him just to get a rise and that thought more than any other was what made him the most upset.

He hadn't expected it to go that far. He thought he'd intimidate her, maybe seduce her a little, into admitting that she loved his hands. Thought he'd make her close her eyes in rapture and leave her high and dry for her teasing. But when his hands had touched her skin again he couldn't make them stop. They had a mind of their own. And she'd complied so completely, he couldn't have stopped it if she'd begged him. In fact, the begging might have egged him on a little because he'd have known she wouldn't have really meant it.

She wanted him more than he wanted her, he thought. He'd felt it last night when he was with her. Felt it when he touched her; when he moved inside her, she'd gotten lost in him. And he'd relished in it. He'd actually relished in the idea of it. What had come over him? He honestly didn't know.

Just thinking about how Pan belonged to him now made him want to go to her, made him want to run his hands over her again, make her whimper his name again. It made him crazy, restless. He hadn't slept at all last night. Not even after, in Pan's room. How could he sleep, he couldn't even look at himself? He didn't know what she'd done to him but he wished she hadn't. His every thought had been about her. Her touch vividly emblazoned in his mind. He couldn't imagine working with her now, knowing where her office was and not going to her. He couldn't imagine being anywhere near her now.

He couldn't imagine being away from her either.

The worst part was, they hadn't resolved anything. Except the fact that they each still wanted to sleep together. That mistakes did get repeated by stupid people, without thought of consequence. But, oh, how he wanted her still.

How could he want her _still_? Twice he'd slept with her, both times drastically different, each equally disastrous. How could he still want her?

He knew how. It was the way she touched him. The way she ran her hands along his skin. The way she felt. The way she cried out to him, softly begging him to love her without saying the words. It was how much she needed him. He was feeding off of it. He loved the fact that she loved him, that she couldn't hide it when he touched her like that. He'd never felt that kind of love from anyone before. He'd never come in contact with that strong, unconditional, instinctual desire before. No one had ever touched him the way she did, made him feel the way she did, because no one knew him like she did.

And he was sucking it out of her like a vampire. He was stealing her love for him and using it up. He was using her. Kami that made him incredibly sick. But how was he supposed to fight off something this big? Especially when she was so willing, so _needing_?

This was far too big for either one of them to ignore. He had a feeling that, if he couldn't control himself, he'd see her again tonight.

#######

Pan drug her bags down the stairs, head still reeling even though she'd been calm most of the afternoon. She was just glad it was time to leave, she didn't want to see anyone and she didn't want to have to explain why she'd been missing in action all day. She just wanted to go home, go to bed, and forget about every wonderful feeling Trunks had ever inspired in her.

She couldn't wait to get off these islands and away from everyone. She didn't think she'd ever be able to face Trunks again and not blush; just thinking of working in the same building as him made her knees weak with want. At least, she thought wryly, she didn't feel dirty anymore. Now she only felt empty because she missed his touch. Empty because she'd never feel it again. Empty because she wanted him to love her more than anything else she'd ever wanted in her life. This was even worse than the first time she thought she was in love with him. Now she knew what it was like to touch him and have him return it ten-fold.

No one had ever done to her what he'd done last night. She didn't even know what to call it, only that it would haunt her dreams for the rest of her life. She only knew that everyone else she was ever with, no matter who it was or how long from now it happened, would be nothing compared to Trunks. And no one would ever live up to Trunks' image, it wasn't possible. In fact, she couldn't even imagine being intimate with anyone else all of a sudden. For some reason, the very thought of anyone else touching her, after last night, made her feel sick to the stomach.

Dear Dende, Trunks had ruined her. She'd never be able to look at another man now. What on Earth was she going to do?

Before she had the chance to pursue that line of thought, she found herself down the stairs and in the lobby. Bra and Marron were already there, just standing with their hands on their hips. Marron was wearing sunglasses, for some reason, inside the lobby but Pan could tell she was upset about something. Not that Pan cared. Served Marron right after being such a bitch last night.

"Pan, you and I are riding with Ubuu to the airport. You and I are sitting together on the plane too." Bra informed her, a bitter, biting tone to her voice as she filled her in. Pan raised an eyebrow, looking from Bra to Marron with slight confusion–Marron and Bra had been sitting together, Goten and Ubuu in the other compartment–but didn't question it. She wouldn't have to see Trunks and that was all she asked.

"Fine." Pan agreed, nodding her head.

"You can't do that, Bra." Pan nearly jumped out of her skin as she swung around, giving Ubuu a nasty glare. She hadn't known he was behind her, some kind of warning would have been nice.

"And just why not?" Bra asked, using the tone that most people didn't challenge. It even made Pan feel a little uneasy. Something was wrong...

"You know why. Our tickets have seat numbers on them and we have to sit where we're supposed to." He replied, voice coming out easy as he walked around Pan, picking up her bag along the way.

"It's my jet and I'll sit where I want, with who I want. And I want to sit with Pan, on the other side of the plane. Do you have a problem with that?" She questioned, a blue eyebrow coming up in challenge. Ubuu sighed, taking her bag and throwing a quick glance at Marron. The blonde girl blushed and shifted her gaze to the floor, wringing her hands nervously. Pan watched with interest as Ubuu rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders.

"No, no problem at all. Do what you want." And then he walked out of the lobby with the bags without a second glance. Without taking Marron's bag.

Okay, Pan thought, connecting one and two. Obviously Marron and Ubuu were having a dispute of some sort. And, for some reason, Marron was highly embarrassed about whatever it was. Pan wondered if she wasn't the only one that did something stupid last night. The thought made her chuckle slightly, a little sardonically because it really wasn't funny at all.

Bra gave her a quizzical look but Pan only shook her head and looked away as if it were nothing at all. "Well, let's go get in our car, Pan. Before the _others_ come down."

Pan knew exactly who Bra meant when she said 'others' because of the way she spat the word out. She was referring to Goten. Either him or Trunks, and Bra didn't mean Trunks. She'd never looked that upset over her brother before. Now Pan knew two things: Ubuu and Marron were at it and so were Goten and Bra. Oh yes, lots had happened yesterday that was yet to be revealed.

"So, you going to tell me what happened now or later?" Pan questioned, eyes sparkling at being able to forget her own problems.

"Later," Bra informed her, tone still biting. "And I'll wait until you tell me what bit you in the ass first." She finished, sending an evil, twisted sort of smirk Pan's way.

"I don't know what you're talking about Bra." Pan denied, pushing hair behind her ear and starting to walk forward, towards the door.

"That's why you look like such shit?" Bra questioned bluntly, making Pan wince and Marron chuckle. "And don't you even start, Marron," Bra turned to Marron, her eyes stingingly accusing. "You look worse than she does."

"So? I had a rough night."

"Yeah, I bet. Picking up another stray, no doubt." Pan stopped, turning as she pushed the door open so that she could see Marron's face. The girl was frowning, clearly trying not to react.

"No stray." Marron answered smoothly, her tone suggesting there was more to the story. "Not that, after yesterday, it's any of _your_ business." She shot back.

Pan pushed out the door, trying not to laugh again over something that wasn't funny. But this was just too great. She was watching Bra and Marron's friendship fall all apart and she had been the cause of it. So now, not only had she slept with a guy - twice, mind you - whom she meant absolutely nothing to, but she was also in the process of ruining life long bonds between friends. Go Pan! She rooted herself on thinking about how her parents would respond if they knew exactly how screwed up she was.

"Hey, hey, you two." Pan intervened while walking ahead of them. "Let's play nice."

"Don't tell me," Bra ignored Pan, both her and Marron stopping once they reached the middle of the street to glare at each other. "That you're still mad about yesterday." She said it as if that were the stupidest, most petty thing Marron could ever admit to.

"And why wouldn't I be? You called me a slut. And, in case you just missed it, you insinuated it again a minute ago." Marron was talking a little louder than was necessary, her hands finding her hips again as she leaned forward to talk to Bra. "You know what your problem is, Bra?" Marron challenged, clearly going to tell Bra whether she wanted to hear it or not.

"No, please enlighten me. What's my problem?"

"You think you're perfect. And you hate it when people catch that you're not, so to cover up your flaws you pick on other people." She responded haughtily.

"_I_ pick on other people? Marron, what the hell do you call what you were doing yesterday to Pan?" Bra challenged, her eyes flashing dangerously as her own volume increased. "It certainly wasn't you being an angel."

"That's different." Marron dismissed casually, not even turning to glance at Pan who was watching the whole encounter.

"How?" Bra questioned indignantly. "And who's flaw did I pick on to cover up mine? And _what_ flaw of mine am I covering up?"

"You're the most insecure, uncertain person I've ever met in my life and that's what you were trying to cover up. Don't pretend like you don't know what you said to me was uncalled for."

"Oh, I'm the insecure one but you run from person to person every chance you get without a second thought. Then I'm out of line when I call you a slut." Bra shook her head, crossing her arms and glaring up at the blonde. "I can't believe you would say that to me and actually believe it."

"You know what? I don't have time for this. You don't want me to cut you down, not really Bra. You'd be crying if I fought back against you right now. And do you know why? Because," She continued without even thought of pause for Bra to respond. "I know more than you give me credit for, much more. I see things, and you know it, that other people don't see. And I see what you're trying to cover up, no matter what you say. I know why you left Japan; you lied to me about that, by the way. And the sad part is, for a moment I believed you.

"And I know why you're taking up for Pan all of a sudden. When months ago you wouldn't have even cared for the girl's well being at all, now you're her best friend and, for some reason, you've decided to leave me out in the cold. But that's okay because I know what you really are. I know what your real motive is. And once you have him, if you ever get him, you won't look twice at Pan again. Unless she actually manages, by some odd twist of fate, to make Trunks see her the way she's wanted him to for ages – which I doubt she'll be able to do – and legally becomes your sister. Not that Pan is innocent, mind you, she's been using _you_ for your brother just like you were using her.

"So you know what? The both can have each other. Both of you can stab each other in the back with silver daggers for all I care. I'll take hard liquor, some guy I don't know, and a hangover over best friends who lie to my face any day." With that she smirked, pivoted on her heel, and walked over to the waiting car that she would be riding in without a backward glance.

Bra simply stood there, evil scowl permanently set on her face, eyes darker than the bottom of the ocean as she tried to control her temper. Finally, she broke, her eyes flashing lightning before she took off into a run past Pan, towards Marron's car.

It only took a second before Pan reacted, her own dark eyes widening in shock as she realized Bra was angry. Not just slightly, but really pissed. And she was about to take that anger out on her former best friend's face. Pan took off after her, catching her before she could reach the handle of Marron's car door, pulling her back. Bra shook in her arms, growling and yelling for Pan to let her go.

"Get off me!" She screamed, face turning red as she rocked her body in Pan's arms.

"Calm down. You can't fight her."

"No? You were in this position yesterday and someone pulled you away. How did you like it?" Bra spat back, still trying to get out of Pan's death grip.

Pan pursed her lips together, unable to answer. Not only because, in truth, she _had_ liked being held by who was doing the holding back, but also because she'd really wanted to get her hands around Marron's neck. And she was tempted, very tempted, to let Bra go and see what would happen. By this time, Marron had realized Bra's intent as well and was stepping out of the car, scant centimeters away from Bra's reaching fingers.

"What, Bra?" Marron questioned, emboldened because Pan had a grip over the crazed Saiyan. "You going to _hit_ me now?" She taunted.

"As soon as Pan gets the hell off me!" She screamed, lurching forward in Pan's arms and getting a slight touch of Marron's hair before Pan pushed back, moving Bra further away.

"Bra," Pan chastised, no real disappointment in her voice. In truth, she wanted Bra to hit her, at least this would be close to a fair fight. No, that wasn't true. Pan had been training Bra, the girl was Saiyan, and she was angry; there was no contest, Marron would be killed.

Ubuu was out of the other car now, leaning against it with a smirk on his face, not even attempting to tell Bra to calm down. Not even pretending that he didn't want her to hit Marron right across the face. That was all the encouragement Pan needed, as she looked over at the smirk on Ubuu's face, she couldn't resist. She stepped back a few paces, pulling Bra with her - to give Marron the chance to run away first - and then released the girl. She heard double yells from behind Bra and knew instantly that the 'others' had made it in time to see part of the explosive argument between the two older girls.

"Don't let her go, Pan!" She could make out her uncle's voice as she turned her eyes in his direction, watching as he started in their direction at a run. Pan's eyes widened in feigned innocence as she pretended not to understand what he was telling her not to do. Then, as she 'realized' what he'd said, she shrugged and sighed. Too late now, she thought evilly as she saw Marron take off toward Ubuu to get away from Bra's rage.

"Don't run, you _bitch_, we weren't through talking yet." Bra yelled after her, chasing her. This time, Pan did laugh.

Trunks was running after both of them, not even bothering to chastise Pan, and caught Marron first. He sheltered her, pushing her behind him and folding his arms, taking a firm stance in front of the blonde as his sister neared. His face was set in a deep frown as Bra approached, eyebrow raised as he silently challenged his sister to defy his silent command. Touch her and pay the consequences, Pan could nearly hear Trunks say as she watched the scene unfold.

She frowned slightly, realizing Marron wasn't going to get hers at this moment, and tried to hold in her disappointed groan. She failed and every one of the five heads watching the scene unfold turned and stared at her, as if this were somehow her fault. "What?" She asked defensively.

"Why did you let her go?!" Three voices yelled instantly, two sets of different blue eyes, one set of dark brown, glaring at her. Trunks, Marron, and Goten.

"Oh, please, Marron. I gave you a running start." Pan shoved it off with a wave of her hand, trying not to smirk. "Besides, I wouldn't do you the injustice Marron. A devious bitch like yourself, this might have been as close as you'd ever get to a real spanking. And we both know you've needed one for years." Pan smirked lightly and walked passed all of them, heading to the car Ubuu was leaning against. She didn't have time for this. But her steps faltered as she heard Trunks' next words.

"You're such a vindictive _child_, Pan. Ever heard the expression, turn the other cheek?"

It took a moment for the sting of his words to register. But when it did, her whole body tensed in anger. How dare he call her a child? Especially after...

"This," She started angrily as she spun on her heels to give him a nasty frown. "Is none of your business. And you're the last one that should be calling anyone vindictive, Trunks-San. Your temper's the worst I've ever come across." She explained, voice edgy as she bit her bottom lip, tone insinuating more than her words spoke, reminding his lapsing mind of last night's encounters.

"I'm only angry," He started to explain, walking so that he was closer to her. "Around aggravating people. Small wonder you always see me when I'm in a bad mood."

This was a direct attack because of last night and she recognized it for what it was. "You're not _always_ in a bad mood," She teased, voice going soft as she looked up at him, heart pounding furiously from anger and hurt.

"Really?" He asked lightly, brow wrinkling. "Because you're _always_ aggravating. Funny." He was still walking closer to her, glaring. Her breathing hitched as she bit harder on her lip, feeling the skin puncture.

Everyone was watching them argue, in the middle of the street, as Pan clenched her hands into fists at her side and tried to calm her raising ki. She had to find her breath. She had to keep her cool. She had to try and not kill him, it wouldn't do her any good to attack him.

"Well," She continued as her voice raised from the deadly whisper she was using before. "Maybe you wouldn't think so if you weren't so damn self righteous. But I guess asking you to change would be like asking pigs to fly, excuse the cliche."

"And maybe I wouldn't be so self-righteous if you proved just a tad bit interesting." He bit back.

"Or Maybe, just maybe, if you weren't such a cold-hearted, unfeeling son-of-a-bitch, I wouldn't have to be so aggravating and uninteresting. Did you ever think of that?" She questioned, exaggerating each degrading word, becoming louder as the sentences progressed. He was right up to her at this point, staring down with cold, unblinking blue eyes.

"Or maybe you were just born that way and never changed."

"Excuse me," Marron interrupted as Trunks and Pan stared each other down in silence. "But am I the only one that missed it or not? I mean, what the hell are you two fighting about? I know, at least, that Bra and I had a legitimate reason to be at each other. Maybe even for Pan to be involved, but...this is just...?" She blinked, hands on hips as she tried to figure them out. "Well, it's strange."

"Nothing." Trunks supplied, eyes still hard as he looked at Pan, right in the eyes so that she understood his hidden meaning. "We're fighting over _nothing_. That's all it was."

"Well," Pan's voice was sickly sweet and flat as she picked up where Trunks had left off. "Good riddance then. To this whole fucking island, good riddance! Now can we go the hell home?" She yelled angrily, turning around again and shoving Ubuu out of the way of the car door violently as she climbed in without waiting for a response. Good thing too, because Bra, Marron, Ubuu, and Goten were standing with their mouths open, brows furrowed in confusion, and were in no shape to make comments.

#######

When they arrived at the airport, the other four waited as Trunks and Pan boarded the jet first, each giving the others meaningful glances. They lingered a little longer than Trunks and Pan, Ubuu taking the initiative to mention what everyone else was thinking.

"Now, was it just me," He started, giving each of them a blank, slightly confused look. "Or could everyone else feel the sexual tension bouncing in the air during Trunks and Pan's argument?" Both the girls frowned, glaring at each other but not bothering to answer, as Goten chuckled and nodded his head.

"No, Ubuu, it definitely wasn't just you." They each shrugged, hesitating a bit more before they boarded the jet, Goten muttering, "I wonder what it was all about."

_To be continued..._

**sidenote:** This chapter wasn't edited, so please forgive the errors. I'm sorry I updated like, fifty minutes too late for it to be technically "Friday" but, I was out _all day_ so try and forgive me. Anyway, next week we'll be back on regular schedule unless messes up or I lose the internet or... you know.


	16. Addicted

Rainwater  
Chapter 15: Addicted   
Rating: R for sexual situations and suggestions, adult topics and language.  
_WitchyPrincess_

_Addicted_

_"Too good to be true." I'm beginning to hate that sentence. Who came up with that saying anyway? Why does something always have to be _too_ good? Why can't things just work out wonderfully all the time and only be good _if _they're true? Or maybe, only true if they're good. _

_Well, I knew this was "too good to be true" the moment it happened. I knew it wouldn't last - hell, I knew I shouldn't have even started it - but I couldn't resist the urge to make the best of what I had. And now look at where I am. _

_Have you ever been asleep, in one of the best dreams you've ever had, and then woken up? You know how you want to fall asleep again, just so you can keep dreaming that dream, but you can never get it back? You try and pretend that you're not awake so that the dream won't fade, and usually you don't even remember what it was you were dreaming about - suddenly it's just…gone. Well, that's how it was with him. _

_One minute he was there, arms wrapped tightly around me, his scent lingering on my skin. His body against my own, _inside_ my own. And the next he wasn't. His kisses were a fabrication of my mind, a distant memory hovering around in the crevices of my brain, teasing and mocking my thought process with their presence. How do you forget something so sweet it made your jaws clench together in pleasure, your insides churn and rotate in anticipation? _

_How do you stop wanting something you've wanted all your life? Especially if you've been given a taste of it only to have it snatched away before you got used to it - before it became bland; before you couldn't miss it? I miss him. But I know it is for the better that he doesn't want me. If not best, certainly better._

_–Pan Son  
_#######

Trunks tapped his pencil on his desk, looking down at his appointment book with a slight upturn to his lips. He didn't have another appointment for the rest of the day, he could go home with a clear conscience. He smiled softly, with relish, at the thought because that meant he wouldn't be tortured anymore. And not just the usual paperwork torture either. But the torture he'd been going through all month, losing his mind, because all he could think about was the girl sitting in the desk two halls down from his. The girl that stole into his dreams at night and made him wake up in a cold sweat. Every night.

Pan Son.

He hated to admit it but he missed her. More like, his body yearned for her in a way that he couldn't compensate for. And just knowing that she was close enough to reach, if he wanted to, drove him crazy every single day. All he had to do, he thought, was go down _two_ halls and walk into her office. He couldn't sleep at night anymore because all he thought about was her. Burying himself inside her. This was insane. He'd never fought so hard to maintain his control before in his entire life.

He hadn't seen her since the Carribean trip, keeping his word that there was 'nothing' for them to argue over. Keeping his word that there was nothing between them. At least, keeping up appearances of things being back to normal. He was anything but normal and whatever had occurred was much more than 'nothing'. He didn't know why he was still lying to himself. Except that he had hated knowing that he didn't love her but he was using her. He wasn't like that, he didn't use people.

He didn't know why he couldn't fight the urge this time. What was it about her, or what was wrong with him, that drew them together? That made him feel this out of control and needy? Why couldn't he forget what she felt like against him?

His eyes drifted shut as he tried to remember what she smelled like. The scent came instantly, making him groan aloud. He couldn't keep doing this to himself, he thought sternly, opening his eyes defiantly. No matter what it was that was making him like this, he had to fight it. He had to keep on fighting it until he couldn't remember how soft her skin was, how sweet she smelled, how warm she felt. He had to keep telling himself how wrong it was before he lost it completely.

But he had a feeling that he'd already lost it. His hand was already moving to press the button that would call his secretary and, as he heard her respond, his lips formed the words that signed his fate before he could stop them.

"Send Pan Son to my office, please." With that one short request, he knew he hadn't just lost the battle, he'd lost the war.

#######

Pan slapped her nails against her knee, biting her bottom lip and trying to decide what to do. She didn't have to go to his office, she consoled herself silently. Accidently seeing him some mornings was bad enough, she didn't have to put herself through this. But she knew she was going to. Even if only to hear him say the words. She needed the closure.

He'd been avoiding her for a month; probably building up his resolve. Part of her hoped that was what he'd been doing, even though the bigger part of her hoped that he'd been just as miserable as she was. She hadn't slept peacefully since the last time he touched her. All she really wanted was for him to run his hands over her skin, to put his lips on her body, and make her forget about everything else. All she wanted was to feel him again, be one with him again. She felt like she didn't exist when she wasn't around him.

She felt like she loved him.

And that scared her because, how could she love someone she'd proclaimed to hate just weeks ago? How could she give herself over to someone so completely, after only that one night, especially when he'd treated her the way he had? He'd called her _nothing_, for Dende's sake. She should be over it or hurt by it or, at the very least, angry because of it. But the only thing she could think was that she hoped, with all her being, that he hadn't meant it.

She hoped he missed her and couldn't think without her. She hoped he at least wanted to touch her again, that he was calling her, not to tell her what an accident she had been but, to hold her again. She hoped he wasn't about to give her some speech he'd been planning out this entire month about how they weren't cut out for each other and how he'd made a terrible mistake that shouldn't have been made twice.

Yet she knew, all the time, that she'd hit the nail right on the head. That was exactly what he was about to do, she was sure of it. He'd been putting it off for too long. She reminded herself again that she didn't have to go even though she knew it was unnecessary to repeat it. She would go–if only just to know for sure what he wanted.

Her stomach clenched as she steeled her nerve and stood up, straightening her shirt nervously and drawing in a deep breath. It wouldn't be so horrible, she tried to convince herself, all the while not believing it. Things wouldn't be so terribly bad if she could just get herself to stop wishing he'd want more from 'them' than she knew he wanted. If she could just get past the part where she envisioned him taking her in his arms and sweeping her off her feet. She'd never have him like that–though she wouldn't mind taking anything she could get.

He was bad for her, like poison, and she was addicted to him. She couldn't help herself. She couldn't _breathe_ without thinking about him, it was like he was apart of her body, her _soul_. She felt sick knowing he was about to affirm the fact that he didn't want her.

#######

Trunks sighed, looking at his watch and then back at his office door. How long did it take to walk down two halls? For a moment he was sure that she wouldn't come at all, that she would pretend like he hadn't called her because she was mad at him, or she wanted to save face. And he was relieved. Genuinely relieved that if he didn't have the will power to resist her, at least _she_ had some common sense.

But then that flutter of uncertainty, that wave of despair that always seemed to wash over him at the worst moments, exploded though his body, making sure he knew, without a doubt, that she would come. She needed him more than he needed her, he'd felt that the night at the hotel. She would want to ignore him but she wouldn't, she wouldn't be able to. She was in love with him, he finally admitted frankly to himself. And he was taking advantage of that fact.

His door swung open with just enough force to let him know it wasn't his secretary that had just stormed in his office. Besides, he would have known who it was even if he had been blindfolded and deaf. He could smell her before he heard her, and that was in no way an insult to her. He noticed, while looking down at some papers and pretending to be very occupied, that she didn't close the door.

He motioned with his hand for her to step into his office, imagining the indignant look that he knew on instinct would be on her face, with a smile. "Close the door, will you?" He asked nicely, finally allowing his eyes the opportunity of glancing up. Big mistake, he realized the second after he'd done it.

He had forgotten how gorgeous she was. And not even the conventional kind of gorgeous that usually attracted his attention. She wasn't half as pretty as Marron or Paris, and not nearly as interesting as the type of girl he dated. Not that he dated often, or for very long, for that matter; he couldn't stand the airs women put up around him. He hated being uncomfortable and he hated having to pretend to be what they expected him to be.

And as quickly as he had the thought, his mind made the connection between Pan and those other women: she wasn't anything like them. Even in her looks. She was alluring, completely stunning to him, but she probably didn't have this appeal to many guys. You had to see her, really _see_ her, to understand. And he could certainly see a lot of her as he looked up at the form standing in front of him.

Her arms were crossed her over chest, making the black-button up shirt she was wearing tighten around her. Only three of the buttons were actually done. He could see all of her neck line and the beginning of her cleavage, looking farther down he could see wisps of her toned stomach, trailing down until his eyes met with her low-cut, hip-hugging sweats. He licked his lips, trying to regain his ground, while searching his memory to decide if her outfit violated dress code or not.

Concluding that it did, he smiled softly to himself, standing up and giving her an intense stare.

"Yes?" She asked, raising a confused eyebrow, backing unconsciously closer to the door. He started to walk toward her, his face calm and unconcerned as he approached.

"That outfit is in clear violation of dress code for work, Miss Son." He chastised seriously, giving her what he knew she took as an angry scowl. She glowered, no longer moving back, her arms unfolding, hands resting on hips.

"Well, what do you expect me to do about it?" She asked defiantly, looking for all the world as though he'd just gravely insulted her.

"Nothing." He responded curtly, stopping directly in front of her. "It's obvious that I'm going to handle the situation." His answer was purposely evasive as he met her eyes. She looked as though she were ready to punch him, the thought made him chuckle slightly.

"What? Are you going to fire me for violating dress code, Trunks? That's low, even for you."

"No, I'm not going to fire you. But, I already told you, you can't walk around the office like that." He took another step closer, dangerously near to invading her personal space.

"So what do you intend to do about it?" She asked softly, the confusion clear in her voice, presumably because she couldn't read the look in his eyes. Or she didn't understand it. No, Trunks corrected himself, she didn't _want_ to understand it.

"The only thing I can do." He replied, matching her volume. He moved forward again, right up against her, reaching a hand up to rest on one of the buttons. "Take it off you." He undid the one he was touching, slowly, looking her in the eyes for any indication of hesitation. She looked confused, shocked, lost, but not at all opposed.

He paused, before continuing, praying silently that she'd tell him no. That she would tell him to stop, she wouldn't allow him to use her. But she didn't open her mouth, she didn't place her hand on his and give him a cautious gesture. In fact, she was nearly pleading that he didn't change his mind, with her eyes, and he knew he was lost to her. He knew that, even if she wanted him to leave her alone, she couldn't tell him to do it. And he wouldn't be able to.

They were inseparable. It was undeniable. For some strange reason, that he could not explain or comprehend, he was addicted to her and she was attached to him. They were both insane, but the second his fingers made contact with her bare skin, he didn't care. None of that mattered. Nothing mattered but her, and him, and right then. Again.

#######

It started off casually, their affair, whenever it was convenient they would see each other. But it quickly escalated into something more, something that was less off-handed and more necessity. Slowly it changed so that neither of them could sleep if they didn't see each other at least once a week.

The first week, Trunks went to her, three nights out of the seven. The other four he waited, wondering if she would come to him. She didn't and he sent her, every time he got the chance, an annoyed scowl that let her know he was waiting. The second day into the second week, she came. Reluctantly, as if she were about to be punished by him, but she came.

They always left each other before the sun rose; they had a routine: In the mornings, at work, nothing between them was different in the least. In fact, it was as if they were enemies and not even friends at all. Around their family and friends, they got along, but only reluctantly, and during the day they never second glanced each other unless it was to scowl. Yet the darkness of the night held a completely different story.

Trunks hated her during the day, he could feel it course through his brain and overtake his mind very thoroughly. He hated the fact that she had such a cold snarl around him, a tight leash that he could only walk so far away from before she yanked, and pulled him back in. He released every frustration that he had towards her, about their situation, at her during the day and she never said a word.

But then, why would she? She made him weak, unstable, embarrassingly apologetic at night. She made him scream her name in a desperate manner of apology, achieving her revenge without having to even expel the energy required to glower at him. And it only made him hate her more, and want her more, each time.

On her part, he could tell she was fighting this with everything she had. For days, she wouldn't come to him, for days she'd ignore the fact that her body silently pleaded for his touch. As if to prove to herself that she could walk away, if she wanted, but she never lasted long. A week, sometimes a week and a half, at the most. And then she'd be back. And he'd punish her in his own way for making him wait so long.

He was extra-slow, extra-thorough when she came back to him. Making her remember exactly why she couldn't leave him; making sure that she would come back the next night instead of making him suffer. He was painfully attentive, amazing in his every touch and he knew it. He made her cry tears of frustration and pleasure every time, every single time. And that was his punishment to her when she walked away. She hated him just as much for it.

They weren't sure who knew, and who didn't, but they weren't exactly keen on finding out either. The only thing that mattered was that no one said anything, because they were going to do what they were going to do regardless of anyone else's opinion. Trunks had a slight suspicion that his mother knew, which meant his father knew, but neither of them talked about it. Neither of them mentioned that what he was doing was wrong - he knew he was wrong without them saying it anyway. He simply didn't care. Pan was a grown woman that could make her own decisions and he'd never pressured her into doing anything. His eyes always practically dared his mother or father to challenge that.

Gohan, on the other hand, was another story. But Pan didn't seem at all worried about her father finding out. In fact, it was quite the contrary where the older man was concerned. Pan seemed to be trying to shove small remnants of her affair in her father's face. And Gohan seemed to be trying to ignore it with all he had. So, if he knew, he clearly wasn't going to do anything about it. And, if he didn't, it was because he really didn't want to know. Which was fine with Trunks.

Goten, who would probably be the angriest and the first to figure it out, was too busy planning a wedding to really care. Not to mention, he seemed to be avoiding anyone with the last name 'Briefs' like the plague. Trunks had inquired to both Bra and Pan as to what that was about, but neither of them would give him a clear answer. One thing was for certain though, it offended Bra directly. He could see it in her eyes whenever Goten was mentioned. He was beginning to think his sister felt more for the Saiyan than she was telling anyone. But he knew better than to ask her, knowing where that road would lead. Besides, she hadn't said anything to him about Pan and he was fairly certain that she knew what was going on with them.

So, the only obstacle that stood in Trunks and Pan's way, was Trunks and Pan themselves. They were the only ones keeping themselves away from each other at the moment. This week was a week in which Pan was trying to prove her point, and it was driving Trunks insane. They both knew she was coming back, probably tonight, maybe tomorrow, so why was she even trying to fight it? It was pointless.

He wanted to go over to her apartment, right now, and tell her that, but he controlled the urge. He'd just have to really make her pay when she came back. He was tired of her doing this, tired of her fighting this, but he supposed it was only fair. If he was still fighting it, by treating her the way he treated her, then certainly she could fight it any way she wanted to.

But still, he would have preferred it if her method did not annoy him so directly. Couldn't she pick a fight with him, the way he did with her? Couldn't she burn something of his or embarrass him in front of a group of people? Did she have to take away the only thing he wanted from her?

Yet, even as he had that thought, he knew that was why she did it. It was the only thing he wanted from her, therefore the only thing she had to take away from him. That was the same reason he treated her the way he treated her. She was in love with him, his affection was all she truly ever wanted and he knew it. If he was nasty to her, he was hitting her directly where it hurt. And this was how she retaliated.

He thought hard, trying to recall if there was anything in particular that he'd done to make her upset, but he couldn't think of anything. He was no worse, no better, than normal last week. No, that wasn't true, he might have been a little less extreme because they'd been at it for a little more than three months now and he was starting to feel a little sorry for her. He could tell, could always tell, when she was close to her breaking point with him. He would ease up when he felt her stress, when he felt her tense, and give her some room. When he thought that he might be close to losing this little affair of theirs, he always knew exactly what to do to keep it in tact.

He never pushed her past the brink, always only right next to the edge, before he backed up some and gave her some space. He could see it in her eyes when she wanted to leave him for good. He wasn't ever going to let her, he was too dependant on her. And that was the exact thought that made him hate her. Why did he have to feel this way for her? For Pan? Couldn't he be addicted to someone else, _anyone _else? It had to be her?

He sighed, laying across his bed and closing his eyes, his head beginning to pound. He'd never wanted anyone the way he wanted her, it was driving him out of his mind just admitting it. He hated the way his body had a mind of its own and never listened to his mind or his heart. Why couldn't every one of his parts be in complete agreement? That was all he wanted. Even if it meant that he was in love with Pan herself, it didn't matter. As long as he was actually in love with her while he craved her so much. But he wasn't, he was only attracted to her in some inexplicable way.

His door opened, jarring him from his thoughts, as he sat up to see who it was. A smile curved his lips even before he saw her, knowing who it was immediately. He could always smell her, sense her, before he saw her. His body knew before his eyes, before his mind. She shut the door quickly behind her, standing near it with her hands wrapped around each other in front of her. Her eyes were cast downwards, looking at her feet. He smirked, standing up and walking over to her.

"I haven't seen you all week," He informed, a teasing tone to his voice.

"No," She confirmed. "You haven't."

"Why not?" He continued, deciding that this time she was going to have to ask him before he touched her. He didn't know why, but he'd missed her more than normal this time and she had to pay for that.

"I was busy." She answered angrily, her eyes meeting up with his, the spark visible in them.

"Doing what?"

"What do you care?" She fired back, almost automatically. "I'm here now."

"Why?" He asked softly, walking close enough that they touched lightly. She drew in an annoyed breath and leaned back against the door, so their bodies were no longer in contact.

"Because now I'm not busy."

Trunks lifted an eyebrow, not liking her answer one bit. That wasn't what he wanted to hear at all. She wasn't supposed to be giving him attitude right now, that wasn't how it worked. She was supposed to come back defeated and bashful, she was supposed to be humbled by the fact that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. That she would rather be degraded by him during the day and touched by him at night, than nothing at all. He was going to have to make her change her answer.

He moved forward to remove the distance she'd created, leaning down to kiss her lips softy. She closed her eyes dramatically and he knew what she was feeling, it was electric. Powerful in the very sense of the word. Just a simple touch, a simple brush of the lips, and he was almost weak in the knees and she was almost with him. Her head beat softly against the door, eyes still closed in reverie.

"Why?" He repeated with warning so that she knew her answer hadn't been the one he'd wanted to hear, letting his breath caress her lips as he spoke.

"Hmm?" He continued to press, while she moaned softly, trying to move away from him even though there was no where to go. He smiled and pressed another soft kiss on her lips, before moving across her jaw-line, stopping at her ear. "_Why_ are you here?" He dared her not to answer this time, silently telling her that she knew what he wanted her to say.

"Because." She stated defiantly, her arms coming around his neck in a way that said she was about to fight back.

"Because why?" He asked, neither one of them moving.

"Just because." She responded, leaning up to kiss the side of his mouth. Her hands moved from his shoulders to his chest, gently brushing against him, softly caressing, making him forget his train of thought for a moment. How could she do that to him with a simple touch? He asked himself quietly, curiously. He shook out of it as her hands moved lower, pushing her back and grabbing her wrists softly.

"That's not an answer, Pan." He protested, scowling because the smile on her face suggested that she knew she'd almost won.

"It's the only one you're getting, Trunks."

"Did you come here because you expected us to do more than argue?" He prompted, deciding that he would simply lead her to the words he wanted to hear from her. She wasn't going to fall for it though because she responded with,

"Did you miss me, Trunks?" Her lips tipping up in a way that suggested she already knew the answer. "Could you sleep at night? Were you thinking about me? Wishing you could touch me?" She paused, to give him the opportunity to answer though she knew he wouldn't, before continuing. "Do you want to spend this time arguing, because I can think of better things to do than come up with fighting words, if you'd like."

He didn't respond, couldn't have if he had wanted to, only pulled her into his arms, silently promising that she would pay for that comment later in the night. He needed her a little too much right now to keep up the charade, but later that night he'd go slower and he would make her beg before he continued.

With the promise to himself made, he led her to the bed, not speaking another word. And, later that night, he made sure his promise was kept. She did beg and she deserved every bit of the torment, in his opinion.

#######

Pan held her breath, listening to Trunks' rhythmic inhaling and exhaling, deciphering that he was, indeed, asleep. He never fell asleep when she was with him, he always lay rigidly, waiting until she decided it was time for her to leave, before he relaxed. He never even pretended like he was giving her the option of deciding whether or not she should stay or leave. But now, now she could choose for herself. He was asleep, all she had to do was pretend like she fell asleep too. Then he couldn't possibly say anything to her.

But she wouldn't do that. She'd have to see him in the morning, and she knew it wouldn't be pleasant. He didn't even _look_ at her the same way during the day that he did at night. It was like he wasn't even the same person anymore, and she hated it. She wished he would give her a kind glance, or a friendly gesture even, something that made it clear that he was aware of the fact that her touches made him weak in the knees. It would be nice if he at least didn't go out of his way to insult her.

But she didn't complain. She tried, honestly she tried, to stay away from him. Every time she left like this, creeping in the time between night and day, she told herself that she wouldn't do it again. Every time it was time for her to leave, she promised herself that this would be the last time. But he made it so hard for her, it was like he knew what she was thinking and he was daring her to find the strength. He was always especially gentle with her, especially extraordinary, when she was sure that she wasn't coming back. Like he knew and he was playing games with her.

Whenever she was certain that she'd reached the end of her rope, he did something, said something, that made her change her mind. Or it was simply the way he touched her, implanting his caress into her head, spoiling her for anyone else. She'd never want another guy to touch her if they weren't much better than him, and she had a feeling that no one was better than him.

She hated relying on him. She scowled as she slowly eased her way off of the bed, finding her clothes piece by piece, trying to be quiet enough not to wake him up. Even though a part of her wanted to wake him, make him aware that he'd fallen asleep like she wasn't still there, that he'd fallen asleep but she was leaving anyway. She knew he thought that if he didn't make it clear that he didn't want her there, she wouldn't leave. But he was wrong. As long as she could imagine the disgust on his face when he woke up beside her in the morning and know that she wasn't off-base in her imaginings, she didn't want to face him in the morning any more than he wanted her there.

But she didn't wake him, knowing that he'd probably be annoyed with her no matter what she was doing. She wondered why he hated her, wondered how he could touch her like that and still not care about her well being. She wished that she was a guy, she resolved softly, because then she could turn her emotions off. But she wasn't a guy and she couldn't do that. She loved him and she couldn't change that–she needed him.

After she was dressed, she eased over to the bed and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek, waiting a few seconds to watch him. He looked so peaceful in his sleep, perfect in a way that she couldn't touch. Like a sleeping child that turned the world upside down during waking hours but behaved impeccably in his rest.

He didn't hold her. She thought randomly, bitterly. Not a comforting touch or gesture, nothing that told her that he valued her company. Not after, ever. Dende she wished he did. She yearned to know what it felt like to have his arms wrap around her with care and consideration, yearned to know what it was like to be adored by him. She brushed a bit of his hair away from his eyes, smiling softly, ruefully, before turning away from him. She needed to stop wishing for things she could never have.

She had him sometimes. Sometimes his arms were around her, his lips on hers. Sometimes he was everything she ever wanted him to be. But those moments were few a fleeting, and they were only leading up to something that was purely physical and not meaningful at all. Something that he made perfectly clear was only primal and nothing more.

She shook her head, still smiling in a way that suggested her heart was breaking, before making her way quietly out of his room. Maybe one day, she thought hopefully, if she prayed hard enough.

#######

He woke up, for the first time not sure if she was there or not. Usually, he waited for her to leave before he fell asleep, this time he had not and there was every possibility that she could still be with him. Usually he made sure she was gone, that way he always knew. This time he'd left it up to chance, up to her–purely by accident–and he was curious to see what she had chosen to do.

He rolled over, slinging his arm onto the side of the bed where she should be; that way, if she hadn't left, his arm would bump her body and she wouldn't think that he was checking to see if she was there, if she were awake. Which was exactly what he was doing. She would only think that he was trying to get more comfortable. But his arm hit nothing but air, then mattress. Somehow, knowing that she'd chosen to leave without prompting from him sent a shiver of emotion that he couldn't identify dancing down his spine. It wasn't positive, he could tell that much.

He decided, then and there, that he liked knowing, one way or another, a whole lot better than waking up to find out. It left no room for annoyance, no matter her decision.

That day, he was sure he was the meanest he'd ever been to her. He made up for it that night though, making her feel as if she'd reached heaven with his every touch. And when she tried to get up, he didn't let her leave. Neither of them got any sleep that night.

_To be continued..._


	17. Secrets

Rainwater  
Chapter 16: Secrets   
Rating: R for sexual situations and suggestions, adult topics and language.  
_WitchyPrincess_

_Secrets_

_I might be the way everyone thinks I am. Don't think I don't know what you think about me. But you're wrong, it's just me; I know who I am and, believe it or not, I'm proud of me; everything I want to, I always do and I never regret it, not once have I ever, no matter what it is. No matter who it hurts. _

_But this, I regret. _

_I haven't been right since; I've lost everything that matters to me with one stone. It isn't fair. I'm used to being sad, even when I'm happy, but this is just ridiculous. I can't even pretend to smile now and I just wish one of them, at least one of them, would talk to me. But neither of them will. _

_I was taken for granted and I know it. Yet, all I want is for one of them to talk to me and everything would be okay. I wouldn't even bring up what I'm so upset about, I'd even apologize and that's really not my style. All I'm asking for is a little mercy - a little leeway. Forgiveness that I would, and have, given them if they would ask for it. But what do I get instead? _

_Nothing. _

_That's all I'm worth, apparently: nothing. Maybe I'll change my name to Worthless. Worthless Chestnut. That does have a certain ring to it; like a penny with a hole in it._

_–Marron Chestnut  
_#######

Bra watched with slightly widened eyes as Pan entered the kitchen. Her face was set into a scowl, eyes angry and red, looking as though she hadn't slept in weeks. This was the third time, just this week, that Pan had stayed over the entire night - It had been going on for a month. They weren't even trying to keep it secret that they were sleeping with each other anymore, Bra thought, slightly testily as she tried not to let her disapproval show.

But Pan deserved so much more than this...this fling. She deserved someone who _loved_ her, truly loved her. Not just someone who adored her body and had a minimal amount of respect for her. Trunks was ruining her and Bra was just sitting by, watching it happen like the worst friend in the world.

Still, she couldn't find the strength to open her mouth and say anything about it this morning. She had problems of her own to deal with, like the doorbell that wouldn't stop ringing, for one thing. And, for another, she knew that Pan simply didn't want to hear anything about it. Not just yet.

"Morning." Bra replied amiably, smiling at the younger girl.

"Advil." Pan responded, nodding her head politely in the process, as she rambled through the medicine drawer.

"Headache?"

"Major one." She nodded, pulling out the bottle and popping it open. She swallowed two of the pills, closing the bottle and heading over to the faucet for water to completely wash it down with. "So, how are you this morning?" She inquired after she'd finished, her eyes lighting as if she knew something that she wasn't about to share.

"Just fine." Bra responded, slightly edgy because she knew what Pan was teasing about.

"That doorbell just keeps on ringing." Pan supplied lightly, as if it were no big deal. Then, shrugging her shoulders, she grabbed a bottle of water and spun around.

"Hey, Pan," Bra called out before she could walk out of the kitchen.

"Yes?" She inquired, eyes still teasing.

"You and I should get together and do something this week. You know, to get away from this house for a bit." There was a pause in which Pan considered the idea, bouncing it around in her head. Then she shrugged and nodded slowly.

"All right. Just pick a day and time. I'm fine with it."

"That's great." Bra responded, smiling slightly.

"But Bra," Pan countered, her voice slightly warning.

"Yeah?"

"Answer the door first."

Bra smiled, lifting her eyebrows in a fashion that showed she didn't think it was funny. "I don't see why I should, it's just Marron."

"You're still not talking to her?"

"I've no reason to."

"She has been your best friend since the moment you two spoke the same adolescent language. You can't tell me you don't miss her, you just invited me out with you."

"She betrayed my trust in her, Pan. And what's wrong with me inviting you somewhere? I like you." She defended.

"You two need to work things out. Talk to her." She prodded, making it more of a command than a plea.

"All right," Bra conceded. "But only on one condition."

"Which is?"

"You allow me to give you some unwanted advice at some point in time."

"Done. I can't promise that I'll follow it, but I can promise that I'll at least let you butt into my life long enough to hear you out. Feel free."

"Same here. I can't say I'll make up with her, but I will _talk_ to her." Pan lifted an unsatisfied eyebrow but Bra ignored her. "Now, get upstairs before she sees you. She'll have a field day if she does." Pan turned, starting to walk away when Bra called,

"Pan, are you in a hurry or not? Cause I can have her out of here in less than five minutes."

"Not. Take your time, I'm going to sleep; I didn't get any last night."

"Hey," Bra made a 'tutting' sound, "_Way_ too much information."

"Sorry," Pan chuckled, stopping before she made her way out of the kitchen again. "You know what Bra?" She asked without waiting for a response. "Marron was the one person that you could share everything with. It helps to be able to share your secrets with someone instead of keeping things bottled up inside. You don't want to lose that over one stupid argument. I've never had that, you see, so I can only imagine what it feels like. Don't ruin it because of something that has to do with little old me. Let me fight my own battles."

"This has more to do with Marron's character than it does with you, Pan. But thanks for the advice. And, hey, if you're ever looking for someone to share anything with, you know I'm here, don't you?"

"Thanks, but I'll probably never take you up on that offer. I'm not the sharing kind."

"Probably is better than never. Anyway, the offer stands whenever, if ever, you want to use it."

"I'll keep that in mind. Now," Pan paused, hearing the doorbell sound again with a laugh. "Get the door. _Please_. It's driving Trunks insane."

Bra laughed as she made her way towards the entry hall.

#######

Marron put her hands on her hips, haughtily, as she waited patiently for someone to answer the door. They didn't want her to ring again, she thought with anger, narrowing her eyes. But she would if she had to, she wasn't going to go away. This was getting to be completely stupid. There was no need for such petty rivalry anymore.

After waiting for more than three months to set things right with her best friend in the world, she felt as if she'd waited long enough. How could Bra still be angry with her? They'd missed _three_ holidays while fighting. Not even Ubuu, whose heart she had completely shattered, held out as long as Bra. The girl could hold a grudge when she really wanted to.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the door swung open forcefully and Bra stood in front of her, eyes crinkled in anger.

"What do you want?" She asked dangerously, glaring.

"I came here to talk to you and I'm not leaving until you listen."

"Fine, talk." She informed, not moving back to invite Marron in. This simply wouldn't do, Marron decided, crossing her arms and resting her body weight on her right hip. Bra rolled her eyes, sighed, and moved back a little, begrudgingly inviting Marron in.

"All right, but make this quick."

"Fine, I'm sorry about what I said to you. I never meant to hurt you, you know that. And I just hope we can put the past behind us and make up."

Bra sighed, heavily, before shutting the door and walking down the entry-hall, past the den and into the kitchen. "Come on, then, sit down." She agreed, as a smile curved Marron's lips. It was about time they worked some things out.

An hour of apologies and conversation later, Bra and Marron were chatting as if there had never been anything amiss. It wasn't until then, in fact, that Bra remembered Pan was still upstairs and couldn't leave until Marron did. She decided to wrap things up quickly so that the younger girl could leave at her leisure.

"All right, Marron, we'll be right back to normal on one condition." She announced, smiling slightly.

"Which is?" Marron questioned, raising a blonde eyebrow in suspicion.

"Pan and I are going to go out to lunch or something sometime this week. You can come and if you manage to be civil with her throughout it all, friendly even, then we'll be able to work things out just fine."

Marron didn't respond for a while, leaning back in her chair and mentally playing out all the possibilities. Then, "She means a lot to you, doesn't she?"

"Yes." Bra confirmed with a nod of her head.

"Why?"

"Because, she's the closest thing I'll ever have to a sister." Bra answered evasively, thinking of Trunks and Pan's relationship. Thinking of what she could have had with Goten. Thinking, as well, of how close they were in age and how little they had gotten along when they were younger. And how most siblings did not like each other when they were young. Pan was the only true constant in Bra's life, and she couldn't afford to lose that.

She could not always count on a lot of things in Japan, but she could always count on Pan to do what she said she was going to do. That girl had the strongest determination streak. Of course, before Bra left Japan, Pan's promises to 'do something' hadn't been for Bra's benefit. They had usually been in retaliation to something Marron and Bra had done to her.

But Pan had forgiven her for past mistakes without much griping about it. Slowly, the young girl was letting Bra into her life, and if Pan could let Bra in after all they'd been through, then surely anything could happen. If Bra could become friends, true friends, with Pan, she could do anything. Pan was her hope line. The only thing keeping her strung to the idea that sometimes fairy tales did happen in real life. And, that was good for everyone.

"Think of it this way, Marron," Bra provided, a small smile on her lips. "If you and Pan can get along with one another, even if it requires some effort, then surely anything's possible. Wouldn't you love for anything in the world to be possible?"

"Sure, but that's not the real world. For instance, Ubuu will never truly forgive me and you'll never truly forget about what happened between us. That's just the way things work."

"I told you I would forget it, if you could at least try to do this, and I will. I, despite my many faults that you are such an expert at, am no liar."

"See what I mean?"

"You haven't agreed to my terms yet, so it doesn't count. And, anyway, what does Ubuu have to forgive you for?"

"Sleeping with him." Marron answered casually, as if it were an everyday occurrence.

"What?!" Bra yelled with confusion.

"I was drunk. And, anyway, he doesn't think I remember."

"You're kidding?"

"No, I'm not."

"But why would he sleep with you if you were drunk? Didn't he_ know_ you were drunk?"

"I...don't remember. Only that I threw myself at him."

"So...You don't remember sleeping with him, just the before?"

"Yeah, pretty much." Marron answered, almost sadly. "I mean, he's talking to me now but he still hasn't truly forgiven me. I can tell."

"Marron, have you asked him about what happened?" Bra asked cautiously.

"No, I told you he doesn't think I remember anything."

"You should ask him. Maybe nothing happened. Maybe you passed out or something."

"And maybe I slept with him. I'd rather not know the whole truth, Bra."

Bra sighed, thinking of Pan again, and nodding her head. "Well, at least tell me if you're willing to try and get along with Pan."

Marron paused again, biting her lip before agreeing. "Yes. I'll try, I promise I'll try."

"That's all I ask. Thank you."

"Only because it means so much to you." Marron warned as she stood up.

"Don't go into this thinking of me, Marron." Bra informed, shaking her head. "Do this for you. This could be really good for you. Pan's a wonderful person, you've no idea. And, besides, we all sort-of need each other. We could help each other out, I've always thought so."

"Yeah, yeah. I said I'd try, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did." Bra agreed, walking her to the door. "So I'll call you with the arrangements and I'll see you sometime this week."

"All right." Marron agreed as she made her way out of Capsule, while thinking about what a disaster this was going to be. There was no way she and Pan could get along, they just didn't think alike, at all, and it would never work. Besides, both their tempers in the same room had never turned out to be a good thing.

#######

"Okay, let's get a few things straight from the beginning," Pan started, looking at her plate and then back up to the two girls. "Neither of us is going to insult, offend, or disrespect the other throughout this whole meal." She eyed Marron especially before continuing. "We'll keep our not-so-constructive thoughts to ourselves. Is that clear?"

"Absolutely, Pan." Bra agreed, smiling encouragingly from one girl to the other.

"Crystal." Marron spoke at about the same time, more of an edge to her voice than Bra's.

"Good. Also, let's try and not share anything too personal. As I don't trust you Marron, not even as far as I can throw you, and I'm sure you feel the same about me."

"You're absolutely right. So, we'll keep it light."

"That doesn't mean we can't talk _at all_." Bra warned. "We have to talk about _something_."

"Everything about my personal life is off limits." Marron disagreed.

"Mine too." Pan supplied, giving Bra a serious look.

"Like there's that much to know," Marron responded automatically, cupping her hand over her mouth a second after it had come out. Pan only glared, but didn't respond, before Marron whispered an insincere, "Sorry..."

"I'm sure." Pan responded, looking down at her food again to mask her angry scowl. This was never going to work. Both of them had that thought at the exact same time, trying hard not to show their annoyance with the other. Bra could sense the tension and reacted immediately.

"For my sanity why don't the two of you just _pretend_ to get along so we can get this over with without any bruises or wounds that will leave a permanent reminder. All right?"

They both nodded, neither one of them looking at the other as they did so, but the frowns weren't visible on their faces. Bra sighed, wondering how the hell she was supposed to get anywhere with these two. It wasn't until half-way through lunch that the first baby-steps were taken and neither of the girls sitting at the table even set it off.

"Pan," A pretty brunette called as she approached the table. She had long, wavy hair and shimmering silver eyes that glistened as if the sun were permanently shining in them. There was a crooked smile on her face as she came up to Pan's seat and placed a hand on her hip. "You forgot how to phone me?"

Pan's eyes widened as a smile spread on her own face. She cleared her throat before shaking her head and casting a nervous glance at Bra and Marron. "No, Sydney, I've been...busy."

"I'll bet." She answered sarcastically, reading the tone in Pan's voice correctly "After Brandon, I thought you'd be a lot _less_ busy. If you know what I mean."

Pan bit her lip, trying not to glower at the girl as she contained her calm. Sydney was her friend, she had been there for her through all of Brandon's crap. They weren't exactly the 'best of' or anything, but they got along great and Pan usually enjoyed being in the young woman's company. But today, Pan just felt annoyed that Sydney wanted to know about her life. Couldn't she have just walked past and gone on with her business, as if Pan weren't there?

"So," Pan asked uneasily, changing the subject. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh," Her silver eyes absolutely danced as she spoke up, her cheeks turning a slight pink color. "Oh, I haven't told you? I met someone..." Then she paused, as if thinking it over curiously. "Well, I didn't exactly _meet_ someone so much as I was forced into it, but..." She shrugged, a smirk conquering her lips.

Pan lifted an eyebrow, temporarily delighted for the girl. Even though Sydney had never had any trouble in the male department, still, Pan had never seen her glisten like this. "And who, may I ask, is this young man that you met?"

She giggled a little, looking down at the floor and then back up at them, casting a glance to Bra before continuing. "I, um, he isn't exactly young. And, I mean, we're not exactly dating. But he went to daddy for a business meeting and now he wants to see me for lunch to 'discuss' things." She did air quotes when she said 'discuss'. "And you know what that means, right? Because, he could easily talk to daddy about things and he asked for me. And, I mean, this is the third time we've 'discussed' things." At this, she winked wickedly at Pan, playing with her fingers.

"And?" Pan questioned, curious despite herself, a small smile prickling at her lips. "Go on, who is he?"

"Hm," Sydney teased, biting her lip as if she were thinking hard about whether or not to answer. "Just Trunks Briefs, president of Capsule Corporations, I'll have you know." She gushed finally as Pan felt all the wind sweep right out of her system.

Her face fell, her entire body freezing in position as the words slipped passed Sydney's lips and penetrated the air. Immediately, Sydney knew she had said something wrong and lifted an eyebrow, catching herself.

"Pan, what's wrong?" She asked softly, a hand reaching out to touch Pan's shoulder. Pan jerked back, a dangerous look in her eyes, finally coming to. She pushed her chair back and considered standing up but couldn't make her legs work. She coughed instead, glancing over at Bra before turning back to Sydney. The blue haired girl had a face that almost mimicked Pan's for shock.

"I'm sorry, but you said Trunks, right?"

For a moment, Sydney didn't answer, placing that tone of voice correctly. Reading Pan's look with absolute accuracy. Then, after a few seconds of contemplation, she smiled softly and started to laugh. "Yeah, Trunks. That's what I said all right." She rocked back on her feet happily, as if figuring the pieces to a jig-saw puzzle. "You grew up with him, didn't you? God, Pan, why didn't you tell me he was such a hunk?"

"Because he's a lying, disgusting, deceitful son-of-a-bitch, that's why." Pan answered hotly, trying to calm her breathing. To her surprise, a hand found her shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze and it wasn't Bra's. It was Marron.

"Listen, Sydney was it?" Marron questioned, getting into the conversation with a light smile. "Excuse my friend here, but we were all under the impression that Mr. Briefs was seeing someone. Maybe they've broken up now." She shrugged lightly, squeezing Pan's shoulder again to get her to smile. "Anyway, I wouldn't be surprised if they haven't. This wouldn't be the first time Trunks has tried something like that. Here's a bit of advice, before we leave–because we really must be getting out of here–don't trust the man as far as you can throw him. I grew up with him too, and this here," She motioned to Bra. "Is his sister. I'm sure you're well aware. Listen to us, he's not worth the trouble."

Marron stood up, her eyes glimmering with honestly and concern as she removed her hand from Pan's shoulder. "But I know you're going to cast my opinion aside the second you see his deep-blue eyes; they all do. Just think back on what I said, okay?"

Sydney was frowning by now, giving the girl a curt nod before turning away without so much as a good-bye. Marron sighed, picking up her purse and giving Bra and Pan looks. "Let's go." And without even turning around, she stormed right out of the restaurant.

#######

The first half of the ride back was completely silent, none of the girls trusting themselves to speak. Marron drove and Pan sat in the back, not missing the glances that Bra kept casting her every few seconds. Finally, when she could take it no more, Pan sighed heavily and leaned up so that she could glare at Bra.

"Don't keep looking at me like that. I haven't lost my first pet or something; I could care less who Trunks screws, okay?"

"I haven't said anything, Pan." Bra answered lightly, leaning back in her chair and turning her head away from Pan's prying eyes.

"But you were thinking it. I could read it in your eyes. I don't need your sympathy."

"Fine. I'm going to say something then, and it has nothing to do with defending or condemning my brother. Just stating simple fact in a completely unbiased nature, trust me." She paused, drawing a breath that let Pan know she didn't want to hear what Bra was about to say.

"Just don't–"

"Shut-up Pan, and listen to me." She paused for a second, to make sure Pan would comply, and then delved in. "Okay. When Trunks is trying to settle a deal he chooses the one person who he thinks he can break down the easiest and goes after them. He manipulates them and wears them down however he feels he can. That's just the way he does business. But I've never seen it go farther than that, if you know what I mean. Never farther than business. He's just a shrewd man that likes getting what he wants even if it means deceiving some innocent heart or tricking some honest people."

"Are you finished?" Pan questioned dryly, having sat back by now with a scowl on her lips.

"Just don't...don't take it personal, is all."

Pan lifted a black eyebrow dangerously, crossing her arms in indignation. "Didn't I just say that I don't care what he does with his spare time? Trust me, I don't take it personally."

"Then why do you look like you're ready to go Super Saiyan on me?" Bra snapped back, whipping her head around. "Listen, I'm not taking up for him. That's not what I'm trying to do here. I'm only trying to point out what I think is going on, that's all. But you don't have to listen to me if you don't want to."

"You love your brother a lot, don't you?" Pan asked suddenly, changing topic completely. Her perceptive brown eyes not leaving Bra's face as she answered.

"More than anything else on this Earth and you know it. But that doesn't mean I'd lie for him to _you_. If I'd known something like that was going on, Pan, I would have told you."

"I wasn't accusing you, Bra." She stated simply, leaning her head back against the seat.

"Then what are you saying, Pan?"

"Just that, if it's any consolation, I'd rather be related to you than Paris."

They fell into a comfortable silence once again after that, each girl lost in their own world. Something changed inside Marron then; made her realize that Pan had never had that before. Someone that was close enough to be a sister to her. Someone that understood her without words. Marron had never thought of it that way in her life; she had always assumed that Pan wasn't missing anything. Marron had always been content with Bra and never considered that, consequently, Pan was left out of the loop.

After all, Pan had the boys. All of them. Not just Trunks and Goten, but Vegita and Gohan and even Krillin. Even Marron's mother sometimes preferred Pan's company to Marron's and so, because of it, Marron had never considered what Pan was missing. She seemed to have everything and, seeing her like this, with all defenses dropped, made Marron realize how wrong she'd been. How cruel.

She pulled over to the side of the road, placing the car in park and turning around abruptly. There were tears in her eyes as she turned around to face Pan.

Both girls stared at her in silence for a minute before they both opened their mouths, but Marron beat them to it. "I'm a horrible, horrible person." She looked directly at Pan as she said this, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears. "I'm atrocious and I should be punished severely for the rest of my life for what I've done to you."

Pan rolled her eyes but didn't respond, simply looked out the window instead. "I'm no angel, you know." Pan finally offered, after a long few minutes of stretched silence in which no one even breathed loudly, turning her head back to Marron.

"Pan, I..." She caught her breath, distracted, remembering how to talk again before continuing. "At the hotel in the Carribean, I–"

"Forget it."

"No. I. You don't understand." Marron shook her head, looking from Pan to Bra. "I didn't say what I said, then, to be spiteful. Well, maybe a little. But that wasn't it, really." Marron drew in another staggering breath before continuing. "I said it because I wanted to see your reaction. I wanted to know if something was going on between you and Trunks."

"And?"

"And there was." She cleared her throat. "There is. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not the idiot I pretend to be. I see things other people don't usually. And, I'm not blind Pan, I know you were in Trunks' room when I was at Bra's earlier this week."

"How do you..."

"I was raised around fighters too, you know. I picked up on a few things."

"So you've known, all this time that we've..." Pan swallowed, a thought occurring to her. "Who else knows?"

Marron smirked, almost apologetically. "I believe, everyone knows. Well, except Goten."

"Wait, you mean..._everyone_? And no one's said anything?"

"They all wanted to hear it from you guys. You know, parents do that sometimes. Let their children make their own mistakes. It's called being jerks."

"Well, I don't care," Pan said after a second, resolving something in her mind. Her eyes got cold. "They can ignore it all they want. Just as long as they don't say anything, I don't care."

"Pan, you don't mean..." This was Bra, her eyes alert as she realized what Pan was saying. "You're not going to continue..?"

"I don't see why I shouldn't."

"Shrink his shirts." Marron responded cryptically, eyes glistening.

"What?" Both girls questioned in unison.

"Offer to take them to the dry cleaners, then have them shrunk. It'll drive him insane. Switch his sugar with salt, buy him smaller shoes that look exactly like his shoes, change his brand of after shave, but leave it in the same bottle as the old kind. You know, the little things.

"I dated a guy like Trunks once. A real control freak, you know. And when he cheated no me that's what I did to him. He thought he was losing his mind; he went over the edge before he figured it out." Marron started giggling before the other two, but soon, they were all holding their stomachs and gasping for breath.

"Marron," Bra admonished, her face red from laughter. "You didn't."

"Sure did." After a few more seconds, they all sobered and Marron turned back to Pan expectantly. Pan shook her head.

"No thanks. I don't want to hurt him, Marron. I'm responsible for myself, after all, and I knew what I was getting into. It wouldn't be right."

Marron eyed her critically for a long time before responding with, "How long have you been in love with him?"

Pan didn't even hesitate with her response. "Since before I knew what the feeling meant."

"Does he know?"

"Maybe." Pan shrugged, not really wanting to think on the possibility of him knowing and still treating her the way he did. She preferred to pretend that he thought she felt the same way he did. That way, when he was a jackass to her, she didn't get so offended.

"But he doesn't care. Then he's using you." She stated as if it were a revelation.

"I'm letting him use me. I don't see how there's any difference."

"How can you not? Pan, you don't deserve this."

"It's none of your business." By the snap in her tone, Marron could tell she'd hit a soft spot. She didn't press the matter.

"Fine. Sorry."

"Forget about it. And I mean it, _forget_ about it."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to say anything."

"I wasn't worried." Pan stated viciously as Marron turned around to start up the car again. Marron ignored her snappiness, a brief smile finding her lips over what had just happened.

She and Pan had broken through years of walls in a matter of minutes. Sure, there was still some resistance there, but they were no longer enemies. They were very close to what Marron would call friends. And, she realized suddenly as she started the car and eased back onto the road, she wanted them to be. Secret sharing and all.

_To be continued..._


	18. Unwanted Advice

Rainwater  
Chapter 17: Unwanted Advice  
Rating: R for sexual situations and suggestions, adult topics and language.  
_WitchyPrincess___

_Unwanted Advice_

_Closed up. An empty space inside my head that takes me back in time. Depraved of hope and spirit, I fall apart again. I keep looking out my window, my elbow propped up on the panel, a frown on my face and a dream right beyond my finger tips. _

_I can't stretch to reach it and wouldn't if I could. I know what that dream will lead to and I'm afraid of what it means._

_I hold my breath when I'm underwater but I'm drowning anyway. _

_–Bra Briefs  
_#######

It was raining outside. A strong, continuous thump that beat against the window panes as Bra sat, staring out. She couldn't sleep; she didn't usually sleep much these days.

Goten's wedding was in three weeks now and it didn't look like he was changing his mind. He hadn't been by to see her since the incident at the hotel and she didn't blame him. Honestly she didn't know what she'd do if she did see him, knowing he was going to marry that girl. Knowing that there could have been something between them but she would always only be second best. Second to Paris.

Bra was never second at anything she did and she refused to settle for it now. She just wished she had the guts to take Paris on, woman to woman. To _make_ Goten chose, one way or anther, who he wanted for good. But she didn't. She could only cower and pretend like he didn't exist.

She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that if she told him she was willing to fight for his affection, he would eventually wind up with her. But it was the fighting she couldn't conceive of. How could she force herself on someone like that? She couldn't imagine it. Pan could.

Pan had done it.

Bra sighed, looking up at the ceiling with a whimsical smile. One of wry humor but not really amusement. Look how well that had turned out for Pan, she thought dryly.

This was tearing Bra up inside; what her brother was doing. What _Pan_ and her brother were doing. It was wrong. Just plain wrong. Either they loved each other or they didn't and she couldn't continue to sit by and watch it happen. Trunks was easing into Pan, Bra could see that. Slowly, he was becoming more use to the idea of being with her. Not just sleeping with her but actually _being_ with her.

Bra had watched him brush his hand against her's this morning at the breakfast table. She had watched his fingers slide slowly across Pan's back as he passed her in leaving the house. She watched her brother's eyes when he glanced in Pan's direction. They weren't hard anymore. They certainly weren't the sign of a lover lost in his lady's eyes, but they weren't cold and hateful and that was improvement. Still, that didn't make it right.

And all Bra could do was sit back and think about how wrong it was. Pan didn't want to listen to reason. Bra had thought, after Pan heard about Sydney, she would walk right out of Trunks' life. The girl had gone four days without seeing Trunks and then Bra watched as she eased down the stairs the next morning, a sheepish expression in her eyes when she saw Bra's disappointed face. But she'd made no excuses for her actions. None whatsoever.

And Bra had expected no less. The girl was in love–not that it served as an adequate excuse. Bra certainly wouldn't be Goten's mistress...Though she had come awfully close that night in the hotel. She wasn't proud of it but she wouldn't do it again. Though she couldn't really say that for sure because she wasn't given the opportunity to do it again. So, maybe she would.

Bra curled up on the window seat, laying her head against the glass. In minutes she was asleep with her thoughts flittering through her brain like dripping water from a faucet.

#######

His eyes snapped open quickly, body cold suddenly though there was no logical reason for the chill. Pan was no longer near him but he didn't know how that could have bothered him; they never touched in their sleep. He stayed rigid just to make sure he didn't hold her when they slept. He never wanted her to get the wrong impression. Her leaving the bed shouldn't have woken him but it had.

He looked up, his bleary eyes focusing on her figure.

She was wearing his shirt.

An emotion that he couldn't identify swelled up in his chest and made it hard for him to breathe. He blinked a few times before sitting up, staring at her in his long business shirt and nothing more.

He felt uncomfortable.

"That's my shirt." He muttered sleepily, wiping his eyes. She started, jumping slightly and turning to face him. She had been staring out of the window, drifting in her own world. Her cheeks were slightly red as she looked him. She was embarrassed.

"I know." She whispered softly, making his spine catch goose-bumps at her apprehension. "My clothes never made it to the dryer last night. Sorry."

He got up, walking over to her slowly, his face unreadable. "Take it off." He commanded certainly, his mouth set into a frown.

He could nearly see her heart skip a beat, watched cruelly as her eyes shifted down to the floor in shame and then back up at him, even smiled when he was sure she was fighting back the tears.

"Fine." She muttered, starting to walk past him and head toward the door. He stuck a hand out to halt her.

"What are you doing?" He asked harshly, eyes daring her to be smart with him. She didn't take up the challenge; he had completely broken her spirit. In a way, that made his heart hurt the slightest bit.

"You told me to take off your shirt," She whispered, voice cracking slightly. The fire in her eyes lit as she looked up at him, the fight entering her again. "I'm going to go borrow something from Bra until my clothes dry. At least _she_ won't mind." She pushed past him but he grabbed her again, pushing her back against the window pane.

"I only told you to take off the shirt," He whispered back, pushing closer to her so that his face was buried in her neck. "I never asked you to put anything else on." He informed softly, kissing the side of her throat gently.

"But never mind," He continued to torture her skin with gentle caresses. "You can keep it on for this." His voice took on a wicked tone as he finished, eyes glinting with amusement.

"Trunks–" She whispered back, alarmed, but he silenced her protests with a breath-taking kiss.

It wasn't until then that he realized what it was he'd felt when he saw her in his shirt:

Possessiveness.

She was his. Now and forever. He'd make sure of that.

#######

Pan shifted uncomfortably under her mother's stare. It wasn't pleasant to have Videl Satan Son look at you in that penetrating way. It wasn't pleasant at all. Pan considered getting up from her own table and making an excuse to leave, but knew better than to tempt an already angry woman and make her angrier.

Besides, it wasn't like her mother was going to actually let her _leave_. Especially not when they were in Pan's apartment, as it was. Because Videl was on to something; something was eating her and she couldn't bite her tongue anymore. It wasn't in the mother's handbook that she keep her mouth shut for so long about something so big. She had only butted out this long because her husband had talked his 'logic' into her.

His talk about children and needing to rebel. Saying Pan was the type of girl that simply had to learn from her own mistakes and couldn't be talked out of anything for anybody. And also saying that telling Pan anything would only result in worse behavior from their daughter. All of which Videl agreed with, but there was only so much one person could take without bursting.

Videl had burst.

She couldn't sit by and watch her own daughter ruin her life without so much as butting in. Years from now, Pan would _not_ be able to look back and say no one had told her she was making a huge mistake. Videl wasn't going to let that happen. It was her job as a parent to warn her child before the girl did stupid, dangerous things; and this was certainly both of those.

Only it was a little too late to classify this as 'before' anything. But how could she have known _beforehand_ anyway? It was simple: she couldn't have possibly known. And, she was certain, if Pan didn't want her to know right now, Videl still wouldn't know.

Her daughter could be quite secretive when she wanted to be; she was known for keeping things to herself and hiding her emotions. But this Pan had not even tried to keep quiet, though she hadn't publicly announced it, and what Videl couldn't figure out was why. Why in the world would this girl _want_ her parents to know she was doing something so scanty and deplorable?

Why wouldn't she try and cover it up? Didn't she know it was wrong? Didn't she feel badly about it? And, if she didn't, _why_ didn't she feel badly about it? She should. It was wrong.

Videl scowled as she looked over at her daughter, leaning back in her chair and going over the situation again in her head with scientific precision. She was careful about how she broached the subject, keeping her tone even and controlled as she spoke the words that wouldn't stay in the back of her mind anymore.

"Pan, I want you to stop seeing Trunks." She told her daughter softly, looking calm though her heart was hammering faster than it ever had before.

"I work with him, mother." Her daughter responded dryly, leaning back in her own chair and smirking, looking more at ease after Videl spoke than she had before the woman ventured.

"You know what I'm saying, Pan." Videl chastised, eyes narrowing as she clasped her hands together and thinned her lips in disapproval.

"Then say it, mother. You want me to stop _sleeping_ with Trunks. But, frankly, I don't see how that's any of your business." She responded calmly, still smiling slightly. Apparently, she found this situation amusing.

Videl unclasped her hands, digging them into the fabric of her pants. She closed her eyes for a second and reminded herself to breathe, making sure that she was calm again before she dared to respond back.

"I'm your mother, Pan, and as such it's my job to tell you when you're making a life-altering mistake. Do you know what you're doing, Pan? Have you any clue what-"

"Mother, forgive me, but I don't think you actually want to get into a conversation about whether or not I know what I'm _doing_." Her lips upturned again, though she didn't exactly smile.

Videl lost it. Completely lost it. "Do you know who you're talking to?" She demanded roughly. "With these crude, vulgar insinuations." She bit her tongue before lashing out completely, sitting up in the chair and leaning forward. She put a hand up, face red, to warn her daughter not to speak.

Pan swallowed, clearly humbled, and lowered her head to keep herself from speaking and getting into more trouble.

"I don't know what the _hell_ is wrong with you, Pan Son, but I intend to tell you _right now_ that you're not getting away with it."

Pan looked up sharply as her mother stood up, placing a hand on her hip. She had never heard Videl swear before. Now, she knew she was in for it.

"Listen to me, Pan," Videl commanded, walking around the table that separated them and stopping to stoop in front of Pan. She reached out a hand as her daughter shrunk back. Videl laughed.

"I'm not going to hit you," She told her softly, a slight bitter tone to her voice as her hand cupped Pan's face. "I should, to knock some sense in you, but I won't." She smiled wryly, as if laughing at a joke that her daughter didn't get or hadn't heard. Pan fought back a shiver as she waited for her mother to continue.

"Listen to me," She repeated. "I know I can't tell you what to do. I know you're old enough to make your own decisions and that, even if I don't agree with them, I have to accept them. But that doesn't mean I respect them.

"Pan, why are you doing this? Is it to prove a point, because if it is, you needn't waste your time. We all know you're grown and out of our punishing range. We all know you can decide things for yourself. What has gotten into you?"

"Don't come here," Pan started softly, voice caught in what was either a hiccup or a sob. "Pretending that you're concerned for my well being. Pretending that you're not trying to assert your power. I know what you're doing." She continued in that deadly soft tone, moving her face up and pulling it slowly from her mother's hand.

"And, mother, for your information, this has nothing to do with you. Or daddy. This is all about me and Trunks and if I don't want to explain it to you then I don't have to."

"Not everything you want is what you need, Pan." Videl told her sadly, standing up again. Her blue eyes were shimmering with pain and frustration. Was she to watch her daughter destroy herself simply because the girl was too stubborn to admit she was wrong?

A silver teardrop spilled out of Pan's eye, down her cheek, as she looked up at her mother. "I love him." She whispered softly, shaking her head. "And there's nothing anyone can do about it."

"I'm telling you Pan," Videl pleaded, shaking her head as she watched her daughter emotionally detatch herself from the world. "That's not all there is to live for. I promise you, just let it go, and you'll feel so much better. I'm not asking you, Pan, I'm begging you. Don't do this anymore."

But Pan didn't respond, she didn't even look up at Videl as the woman waited for a response. She merely sat. Blankly staring. After a while, torn, Videl walked around the chair and headed out of her daughter's apartment. There was nothing she could do now. Nothing but wait. And pray. Hope that Pan would do the right thing; it was never too late to do the right thing. She hoped Pan knew that.

She paused in the doorway, to look back at her daughter, with eyes that were shimmering with unshed tears. In a soft voice she whispered, just to make sure things were clear, "I'm not telling you this because I want to assert my authority. I'm not telling you this because you're grown and I can no longer control you but I want to. I'm telling you, Pan, because for the first time in my life," she paused, breathing hard as she forced the words to escape her lips. "I'm ashamed that you're my daughter."

She was gone before she could hear the heartbroken sob that escaped her daughter's lips.

#######

She didn't know why she was here tonight. She hadn't planned on coming tonight and he hadn't told her that he'd wanted her to come, but he hadn't said she _shouldn't_ either. That was a plus, at least.

It was late enough that she didn't expect anybody else to be up, late enough that she wouldn't need to make up an excuse as to why she was there if anybody saw her coming in. They would know, because there was no denying it, and they wouldn't ask. If they did, she was sure she'd give them hell. She was just mad enough to do it.

Her mother's visit had thrown her off. She'd cried for thirty minutes before she controlled it and remembered she was a 'big girl' now. She didn't need her parents' approval or understanding. And she sure as hell didn't need their permission. Maybe that was why she was here; to prove a point. Or maybe she was hurt, beyond just a little, and she was praying he would see that and just hold her.

She wasn't going to hold her breath.

Besides, tonight she wanted to feel complete and he was the only one that ever did that to her. She needed him and nothing was going to throw her off that conviction. That was why she didn't pause when she saw Bra on her way towards the staircase. At least, not a first.

She walked half-way up the stairs before she stilled herself and realized that the girl was curled up on the window seat with her head buried in her knees. The way her body moved up and down suggested that she was crying. Pan sighed, agitated, and turned back around and headed down the stairs. She had learned a lot about Bra these past few months and she couldn't just leave the girl in pain like that. No matter how hurt or pissed off she was, some things just wouldn't rest well on her conscience no matter what. Reluctantly, she admitted that she cared about the girl more than she ever had before.

Tentatively, she approached Bra, caution clear in her movements. It looked as if she was approaching a wild bear or something that could attack at any moment. Bra must have known she as there because she didn't stir when Pan placed a hand on her shoulder. That or she didn't realize Pan was touching her. The dark-haired girl shuddered at the thought.

"Bra," she asked lightly, like treading on thin ice. "Are you okay?"

She didn't raise her head, so her voice came out muffled and strangled somewhere inside her throat. "Do I look okay?" There was sarcasm there too.

"No, no you don't look okay." Pan conceded, choosing to ignore her angry attitude. "Do you," She paused, biting her lip and choking on her words. What could she say? They weren't the best of friends. They were hardly even friends. They didn't have civilized conversations usually. They didn't offer each other condolence or a listening ear. But she couldn't walk away from her.

She honestly didn't know what to do. Bra shocked her by snatching her face away from her knees and looking her straight in the face. Her eyes were a bit glossy, but they weren't red. Her face wasn't tear-streaked, just pale. And tired. She hadn't been crying, that much was clear.

"When I was seven," Bra started, scooting over and silently telling Pan to take a seat beside her, voice a striking calm. Pan marveled at how the Briefs could be calm in the oddest situations, her mind drifting back to when Bulma had caught her and Trunks in his office. Both Bulma and Trunks had been worlds calmer than she was. And now, Bra was doing it.

Pan shook her head and took a seat beside the girl, urging her to continue because Pan really didn't know what else to do.

"My mother took us to an amusement park for my birthday–a group of my friends from school, that is."

Pan nodded, remembering. She hadn't been invited.

"And I remember being upset because I was shorter than most of the kids, because they were all older than me, and I couldn't ride most of the rides they could. I pouted the entire time, every time one of the kids wanted to ride something I couldn't get on. I mean, it was my birthday party. How could they go off just like I didn't matter, simply because their admission had already been paid off?"

Pan swallowed when Bra paused, nodding but confused. She waited patiently for the girl to continue as she drifted back through memories.

"I remember mommy took me to the bathroom while my friends were on some roller-coaster or another, and took my shoulder. She looked down on me with one of the sternest faces I'd ever seen her use and she said to me: 'If you cry in the amusement park, in front of those children, not only will I punish you for being so weak but you'll live the rest of your life regretting it. I mean it, one tear and I'm taking you all back home.'

"That was it. No questions, no pat on the back, no encouraging hug or acknowledgment of how justified I was to feel the way I felt. Not a word about my jerk friends. Nothing. Just, don't cry or you'll regret it," she drew in a deep breath, straightening her shoulders. "I didn't get it then." She sighed, looking more defeated than Pan had ever seen her.

"I get it now," she stated softly.

"They never would have let you live it down." Pan said softly, nodding her head in a bit of understanding. "You would have forever been the brat. The 'it's-my-party-I-can-cry-if-I-want-to' party spoiler. You would have been teased."

She didn't speak for a few minutes, just leaned her head against the window.

"No. It was deeper than that." She finally allowed her voice to penetrate the air.

"How so?" Pan asked, leaning closer with a curious tone.

"It happened again when I was seventeen," she told Pan softly. "I was at one of the science labs in Capsule, you know, just looking at some of the research mom had been working on. One of her co-workers, a scientist, came in and spotted me. He just stared, a small smile on his face as he kind of observed me.

"I thought he was cute so I gave him this flirtatious smile. My mother came in and we all engaged in conversation for a few minutes. Eventually it led to me, and he asked about where I was going to college. My mother put on this fake, sort of high, laugh and shook her head, patting me on the shoulder _lovingly_. She spoke real softly when she told him that I wasn't really interested in school and that my career would probably be driven towards arts. She chuckled it off with this insincere smile as she told him I was going to a community school. I could tell she was embarrassed and he was disgusted. The interest wiped right out of his gaze when he discovered that I wasn't as smart as my mother.

"And, Pan, I've never felt so degraded in my life as I did in that moment."

Pan spoke lightly, angry for Bra, and confused by it all. "What does one have to do with the other, Bra?"

"You don't see things the way I do, Pan, you didn't live the way I did. Weren't raised in that kind of society. But that doesn't mean you don't know this as well as I do: life isn't fair and, because it isn't fair, sometimes you'll never get the things you deserve the most; no matter how much you deserve them." She turned her head away from Pan, staring into the night sky with anger apparent in her gaze.

"That was _my_ birthday party, I had invited them and paid for them, and they were supposed to be my friends. They should have stuck by me but they didn't because they didn't have to. And I couldn't force them to without suffering the repercussions.

"And that guy. He never saw me. He saw my smile, he saw my brief interest in science, he saw my face. But he missed _me_. And, because I didn't have the confidence to pursue an Ivy League college, he just dismissed who I was. Didn't even try to see me."

"So, because of two incidents, all of sudden you'll never get anything you deserve out of life because it's not fair?" Pan nearly cried, indignantly angry.

"There's more than two incidents. There's a lifetime full of them that I could shower on you, but I'm sure you're not interested. All I'm saying is that I've finally figured it out. If I just stop trying, it's got to stop hurting...right?"

"Bra, stop it. What could possibly have your life so knotted up that you can't think straight? That you can't even be happy?"

"I haven't been happy since I was..." She paused, truly thinking, biting her lip with the concentration. "Well, I honestly don't ever remembering being really happy for long periods of time. Maybe in my pre-teen years. Daddy was always there to make me smile, always there to help me out. But somehow, over time, we just...drifted."

"Are you kidding? I would love to have your father. He doesn-" But Bra cut her off before she couldn't explain what he did or didn't do. Wrong or right.

"Or course _you_ would love to have him. Look at you." She pointed to Pan, clear jealousy in her tone and eyes. Pan shifted back, confused.

"What do you mean, look at me? I've got the worst life, luck, ...hell worst _anything _on Earth."

"Are you kidding me, Pan? I've wanted to be you since I was old enough to talk. Do you know how many times I've been compared to you? How many times I've watched my father's eyes light up with joy when you were around, how many times I wished that just once he could treat me the way he treated you? How I used to pretend that one day he'd come up to my room and demand that I spar with you two, or maybe that it'd just be us? How I prayed that my parents would see more in me, expect more from me, then just a pretty face that wouldn't amount to much?

"I watched them knowing they thought you had potential. Knowing they favored you. And I envied you for it. But, more than that honey, I wanted to _be _you. How could you hate your life when I've yearned to have it all of mine?

"You're a year younger than me and you graduated a year before me. The world opened up, for you it was a big sphere of 'yes'. You could have done anything, been anything. You had everything I wanted, everything I dreamed about. And you had courage and the strength to back it up. You had wits and the brains to go along with it. Dende, Pan, you had determination where I would have laid down and accepted my fate.

"Why do you think I came to you and not Marron in this? Why do you think I asked you what I should do when Marron, clearly, has more experience? Because you have the personality for it. That type of special something that makes everyone stand back and watch you. You command attention throughout this party of life, I'm only the starting attraction.

"I've always, always thought that if I could have half the strength and sense you do, I'd be set for life. And this is why what you're doing has disappointed me so greatly. You were meant for so much more than this. You deserve so much more and, though I don't know why you've done it, you've sold yourself short. When are you going to wake up, Pan? He doesn't deserve you."

All her words came rushed, bumping into each other as if she'd been holding them in for a long time, running around every subject she could cover in the minute or so that she was talking. Her eyes glittered with pain and...something more. Concern.

Pan sighed, brushing her fingers roughly though her hair, opening her mouth to defend herself but Bra held up a hand so quiet her.

"You promised me once, remember, that one day you would listen to my advice. Even if you didn't want to hear it. Remember?"

Pan sighed again, nodding. "I remember." She gave reluctantly, resting her back against the window. This was going to be a long night.

"Don't let him do this to you, Pan. Don't let him ruin you like this. You've got so much and you could have so much more if you didn't let him take advantage of you. I mean, really, where the hell is this relationship," she spat that word out as if it were a mockery. "Going? Do you even know? I'll tell you what, and listen to me because you need to hear this. Pan, as long as you stay with him while he uses you, as long as you let him hurt you, you deserve everything you get.

"Why would you want to be with someone that makes you hurt, that tears you up inside? A man, Pan, can only do what you let him. You can't just let him abuse you like this. No matter who he is or how you feel, you can't put up with it. He'll never change as long as you let him hurt you. You should leave him. And if you don't, you deserve everything he gives you."

Pan stood up, angry and it was clear. "I should walk away from you right now. Tell you to stay the hell out of my life because you can't possibly understand. But I won't. I listened to you, patiently, while you told me all that, but it's my turn. You're going to listen to me Bra," she stated sternly as the girl opened her mouth to protest something or other.

Bra shut her mouth abruptly, nodding her consent.

"I just don't understand you Bra. Not at all. How could you have seen all that in me and miss what you have that I'll never be able to touch?" She paused for a second to glare at the girl, clearing her throat. "I won't tell you how many times I've been compared to _you_. I won't even go there because it's pointless.

"Bra, you can't possibly think I've got the world at my fingertips, my life's a living hell. Always has been. Just one catastrophe after another. I've always thought first with my heart and then my head, and that's exactly what I've been doing. This, exactly what you see before you and nothing more, is exactly what you've been wasting your life envying. I haven't changed one bit since I was seventeen and you know it. What you've got that I don't is something so invaluable I can't believe you don't appreciate it more. You've got self-confidence, Bra. Charisma that stands out on it's own.

"I don't attract attention the way you do, I can't capture people the way you and Marron can. I only pretend to. I've always only pretended. People stop and watch you because they're drawn to you, they watch me because I yell that they have to. You walk with this air that demands people respect you without even lifting your voice, and you've always found a way to value your ideals over everything else. You always put your principles first. You think, weigh the consequences, and then you precede. I always just go and that's not something you can learn to grow out of. How can you envy me the very thing that's ruining my life? The very thing that's making you be disappointed in me? How can you stand there and say you wanted to be me, but that you can't understand what I'm doing now?"

"Because you're killing yourself. Every time you turn back to him you're destroying a part of you that we all love in you so much. You're letting him feed off of it, take it from you, and you don't even know it. You can do better than this, Pan. You don't need this - or him." Her voice was adamant, striking as she finished, reaching something deep within Pan and pulling it to the surface. The younger girl, without being able to stop it, felt a fleet of silent tears begin to flow past her cheeks.

"You don't understand, Bra. I do need him. I can't let go of this, I try every single day. It's like an addiction that I can't just quit. I can't convince myself to strive for better, reach higher. Dende knows I've tried to. But you don't know how I feel, you don't see him the way I do. No one does. No one knows how he hurts, no one realizes what we give each other or that, without each other, we'd fall apart.

"You can't possibly understand it because you've never been this low. You've never hurt this much or known this kind of pain, Bra. In your entire life you've never cried these anger-stricken tears. Not like me, not like him. We feed off _each other_. We're destroying _each other_, I know, but neither of us is big enough to stop it. And neither are you."

Bra was up by this point, giving the girl a painful sort-of disappointed frown.

"You're so wrong, Pan. I know pain. Just because you can't see it doesn't mean it doesn't exist. You see, your pain is like rainwater; whenever it gets too heavy it can fall right from the cloud. But mine is a river. And there's a dam right in the middle.

"But just forget it. You can do what you want, because you're going to anyway. I just hope that by the time you finally do realize what this is doing to you, it's not too late for you to make things right again. I wish I had some strength to give you but I don't. And you're going to need all of it if you just keep letting my brother use you like this. You know, the stray cat will always come back if you keep on feeding it."

"Sometimes, when that cat is your only companion, you've got no option."

"What do you think _I'm_ here for, Pan? It wouldn't hurt if you gave me a chance to be your friend, you know." But Pan didn't respond and, after a few seconds of silence, they both turned and headed in their separate directions, both as angry as the other.

_To be continued..._


	19. Losing

Rainwater  
Chapter 18: Losing  
Rating: **R for _sexual situations_ and suggestions, adult topics and language**.  
_WitchyPrincess___

_Losing _

_What if something wholly important to you just separated and severed itself from your soul? How do you realize how incomplete you are until that something's gone? How do you wake up and know–just know–that you'll never be the same again, without falling apart in some way?_

_I don't think you can. I think a part of you has to break up and be swallowed whole by heartache and anger. I think a part of you just can't escape the repercussions. Because, deep down, you know it's your fault that this something has gone away. You didn't realize what you had until it was gone. Until you wanted it back more than life._

_Until you knew that it wasn't a possibility. _

_–Marron Chestnut  
_#######

It was cold, slightly dreary, and she had a blanket wrapped around herself to keep warm. Hugging herself to keep the empty feeling at bay. She was crying silently, not acknowledging the tears as they trickled slowly past her cheeks and then scurried past her neck, disappearing somewhere in the midst of her sorrow. A small sob escaped every now and then but there was nothing she could do about that.

She had messed up. And in more ways than one, too. She had messed up big time there would be no repairing the damages with a smile or a soft apology. She had done something incredibly stupid; well, more than one incredibly stupid something but there was nothing she could do now to change it.

She was screwed.

Literally, figuratively, mentally, emotionally. Every aspect of the word. She was screwed. And she had _asked _for it.

Somehow, she wished she could blame Pan. Or Bra because Bra had suggested that they go out to that stupid lunch together. And then, talking with Pan, seeing a side that Marron hadn't seen before, made her want to kindle a friendship with the girl. It made her want to rekindle the friendship that she'd lost, as well.

It was then that she'd decided that she'd do anything to save her friendship with Ubuu. It was because of then, that she had gone out and ruined her entire life last night.

She hadn't known.

She hadn't thought about it. She'd just...done it. She had thought that was the only way to get him to talk to her again. And, of course, there was something more. She couldn't deny that. No one did _that_ sober, with one of their best friends, without their being something more behind it. But he hadn't seen it that way, had he?

No, he hadn't. He'd thought she was playing with him. If only she hadn't told him that she was making up for what happened at the hotel and her lack of memory on the situation. Then he wouldn't have had to tell her that _nothing_ happened at the hotel. Then he never would have turned those cold, dark eyes on her and asked if that was they only reason she'd done it.

If she only slept with him because she thought she already had once, while drunk. And that was why he wasn't talking to her.

If he hadn't asked, she wouldn't have had to tell him. He wouldn't have felt the need to leave.

She wouldn't be so cold, and hurt, and lonely. But that wasn't the worst of it: she was in love with her best friend. And she wouldn't be if she hadn't done what she'd done.

How does someone sleep with someone else to make them feel better and end up with everyone feeling worse? Just ask Marron, she was a master at it.

She wiped her eyes and lay back on the couch, feeling more incomplete than she ever had in her entire life. She needed to tell him how she felt. But in order to hear something like that, he had to listen first. It wasn't the saying it that would be hard, it was the actually getting it all out before he stormed away that would be the tricky part. She couldn't ruin things with him again or there would be no glue to shove it back together.

Why hadn't she thought about all this before she made such a stupid mistake?

#######

He had felt her ki the second she entered his house and was wondering what was taking her so long. She'd been here for a quite a while and hadn't made it up to his room yet. Maybe she was having second thoughts? After all, he hadn't expressed his desire to see her tonight, this morning when she left his house.

In fact, he didn't want to see her tonight. Not at all.

Well, no, that wasn't entirely true. It was just that, since he saw her wearing his shirt two days ago, he hadn't been right in the head when it concerned her. His emotions had been hitting him like a tidal wave these past two days since, rushing and corrupting each piece of his mind. He couldn't control any of it.

He couldn't sneer at her when he was supposed to anymore. He couldn't get that evil glint in his eyes when he looked at her. In fact, the glint that he did get in his eyes was nothing comparable to evil. It was more akin to adoration or admiration or–he dreaded thinking it–_affection_.

He had _affection_ for this girl. And it didn't stop there. He really cared about her. He was starting to _adore_ her. He was beginning to think that he didn't want to be a minute without her.

So, what they really needed at this point and time was peace from each other. Space and lots of it. Starting immediately.

Then, why was she here? What would she say if he told her to go home? Would she ever come back? He didn't know and he wasn't willing to risk it.

As much as he wanted space to clear his head and force his emotions back in control, he also wanted her to still be loyal to him and come crawling at his every beck and call. She was his, he hadn't been kidding when he proclaimed that one. In every aspect of the word, she belonged to him and he wasn't going to risk that for anything. Even his confusing, completely out-of-bounds emotions.

He was going to keep her and that was all there was to it.

Finally, after what must have been at least half an hour, he felt her ki approaching his door as she quietly swung it opened then swiftly pushed it shut. One look up from his position sprawled on his bed, into her eyes, told him that not only was she angry, the entire world should feel the fury coursing through her veins. She was livid. Completely, utterly furious.

And, for once in his life, he could honestly say that he was _not_ the reason for it. No, not at all. He could read her like a book and he knew. She was mad at herself and that was the worst kind of angry to be. You had no one to punish for it.

With a shiver, Trunks realized that he was about to take her punishment himself. She had to release her frustration somewhere and, somehow, he had pulled the lucky number. Well, whoop-di-do, he thought wryly as she glared and stepped farther into the room.

No hello, she just ripped her shirt off and pulled him up to a standing position. Hm, this should be interesting.

#######

What on earth was he doing here? Of all places, why here? He mentally chastised himself, running his hands over his face in frustration. But he knew why. He knew why here and why now.

He hadn't thought about anything else since he saw the sunken look on her face when he turned away. Even if he and Paris hadn't gotten into a clawing fight just two days before and he hadn't seen her since, he would _still_ be standing outside of this place, pacing and thinking about this girl. She was all he ever thought about.

He hadn't been sure at first. He had thought himself an ass for taking advantage of the situation with Bra. Thought that he shouldn't have encouraged her and thought, more than that, that he shouldn't have enjoyed it when she kissed him. He _knew_ he shouldn't have considered doing more of it. But then, it had been because he thought he wanted Paris.

He didn't.

The question wasn't what he was going to do about it, but more along the lines of where did that leave him? If he didn't want Paris, what did he want? Did he want to be alone for a while to gather his wits about him or did he want to be with Bra? Or did he want to just forget about the whole, entire thing? He could. It would be easy.

All he'd have to do would be to show up again and start hanging around as if nothing had changed. Just casually mention that he was planning on calling the wedding off and never even give Bra a second glance when he said it. That way she'd know where they stood. And it wouldn't be because he wanted to be single, but because he didn't want to be with _her_.

But that wasn't entirely true. If it was he wouldn't have been thinking about her so much. Dreaming about being with her–and not just physically. He wasn't exactly sure what it meant, just that it scared him.

And he wasn't ready for that. Wasn't ready for that at all.

He'd just spent most of his life chasing after one woman. Now was he supposed to admit that he wanted another and not even be startled by it? He couldn't do that. He couldn't get himself to consider Bra that way, no matter how much he wanted to. Just the whole idea of being with her gave him unidentifiable shivers. He wasn't sure if they were shivers of disgust or anticipation. Hence the being frightened bit. Who confused disgust with anticipation?

A really confused person that didn't know what in the world they wanted, that was who. And he couldn't do that to Bra. If he had just given up on Paris without much of a second thought to it, then surely he could give up on Bra that same way when someone else took interest in him. Wouldn't it all happen again? And then he would have hurt someone very important to him for no other reason than he couldn't control his hormones.

He had to be a bigger person here. He couldn't do that to Bra. Anyone else and, with the way that girl kissed, he wouldn't have hesitated a minute. But she wasn't just anyone and that thought was very persistent in his brain.

It was all or nothing with this girl and he knew that he wasn't ready for it to be all. So, again, what was he doing here?

He was turning around, just going to walk away, because it was late and surely no one was up, when the door opened and she walked out onto the front lawn. He felt her before he saw her and turned around slowly to meet his eyes with hers in the dark.

She was beautiful. Even dimly lit by the moon, standing feet away from him, hand on hip in a confused and slightly defeated manner. He wondered why she was up, briefly running through the possibilities, as he walked up to the door. There was no escaping it now. No getting away from it. She'd seen him.

When he approached, she didn't open her mouth to speak, just gathered in his countenance and sighed. She pushed the door open and stepped back, silently inviting him in.

He did an automatic mental scan of ki without really thinking about it and frowned. That couldn't be right.

He turned to her when she shut the door and leaned against it, raising a curious eyebrow. For a brief second, he forgot his concern as he looked at her creamy legs, uncovered by the long t-shirt she was wearing as a nightgown. He hadn't expected her to be a long t-shirt type of girl. He liked that.

Shaking that thought away, he curled his lips up in confusion.

"Why's Pan here?"

"She sleeping over." There was a condescending tone to her voice that let him know Pan wasn't 'sleeping' with her. Goten shivered, clenching his jaw and turning around quickly, fully intendant on kicking someone's ass. Bra's hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"It won't matter what you say. It's been happening for a while and she won't listen to anyone who tells her not to, so don't bother. It'll be ugly, loud, and unnecessary. Besides, everyone but you already knows, so just get over it."

He sighed, practically _tasting_ the anger in his blood, as he spun around on her. "Why didn't I know?" He asked through clenched teeth.

She shrugged, and it was the pain in her eyes that calmed his anger and ignited his shame. "Too busy wrapped in your own world. I guess."

"Bra, that's not fair. I,"

"Goten, what do you _want_?"

"How can you ignore the fact that your brother is sleeping with my niece?" He questioned, obviously unnerved.

"I've done everything I can. In fact, we just had it out a few minutes ago, so you'll excuse me if I'm not in the best of moods concerning that subject." She paused, giving him a considerate look and then taking on the tone of a teacher trying to school a four-year-old. "They-won't-listen-to-reason. There's nothing you can do."

"I could beat the _shit_ out of him."

"And what? Have her be pissed at you? She loves him. She'd do," here, her lips upturned and her eyes glistened with more pain then he ever wanted to watch glitter across her face. "_Anything _for him. That's what love is all about, right? Taking someone else's shit and cleaning it up."

He swallowed–hard–and shook his head. "No, Bra, that's not,"

"I'm only going to ask you one more time and then I'm kicking your ass out of my house. What do you want?"

"You." It was out before he could bite it back and shove it down his throat. Past his lips, into the air, straight to her ears. Her eyes widened, nostrils flared, hands clenched all one after the other. She leaned all her weight on the door and sighed heavily, looking up into his eyes questioningly.

"You didn't mean to say that."

"No," He agreed, knowing not to lie to her now. She was close to the edge, he could feel it. "But that doesn't mean I didn't mean it."

"What–" But if there was more, he didn't hear it. There was urgent knocking on the door that drug off the rest of her sentence and forever robbed him of the rest of her question.

She jumped, then turned quickly and yanked the door open, now appearing more upset than before. "Who else?" He heard her mutter before a very light, very angry, "Shit."

She literally yanked the door forward, almost knocking it off the hinges, as she allowed the brown-haired goddess access to the entry-hall as well.

"I saw your car," The new woman addressed Goten. "I checked, I mean, I figured you'd be here." Her voice was catty when she said that part, olive eyes gathering Bra distastefully.

"This is my fucking house," Bra told her lightly, tone lethal. "Look at me like that again and I'm going to kick both of you out. Do you know how late it is?" She sounded distressed and it made Goten feel worse than before for coming.

"Does _he_?" Paris accused, turning her angry eyes on him.

"Paris," He interrupted aggravated with the whole situation. "What do you want?"

"We need to talk." She stated sternly, crossing her arms and then casting a nervous glance at Bra. He caught it and smirked, knowing his next suggestion would be slightly cruel. But he couldn't help it, for some reason he wanted Bra to see this, to know. She had to know he and Paris were over.

"So talk." He urged softly, quietly amused.

"Not," Paris staggered, catching her breath nervously. "Here. In front of her." She stated calmly.

"Why not? I'm going to have to tell her about it later, anyway." He told Paris, a bit cruelly he was aware. But Paris had to know. Bra was where his interest was.

Then he caught a glance of her neckline and noticed the red that was peaking past the collar. It looked like a rough mat of scars, like she... He sighed, stepping up to her and moving the collar aside. It was.

It was a tattoo.

"Where the hell have you been these last two days?"

Paris groaned, pushing him away before he could get a good look at it, covering her face with her hands after he moved. This was so embarrassing to explain.

#######

Her kisses were swift and rough and they took him by surprise the first couple of times. Her body was shivering with her anger, hands clenching his shirt in a tight fist as she pulled him back with her, against a wall in his room.

She pushed him back a little, breaking their contact and immediately reaching for his shirt. He could tell she was avoiding eye contact, the question was, should he let her do it? He didn't think angry sex was such a good idea. Not that it didn't hold it's own appeals, just, he didn't want to do that to her. She was upset and vulnerable and just couldn't take advantage of that.

And then, as he realized what he'd just thought, he was angry too. When did he start to feel compassion for this girl? What should he care if she was angry–she was throwing herself at him and that was all that mattered. She was grown and she knew what she was doing. Besides, it wasn't like she hadn't ever slept with anyone before.

They'd done it _plenty_ of times before.

But this was different. And not just because she was pissed off. This was different because he didn't want to hurt her. He didn't want her to be hurt or angry because of herself or anyone else. It was almost a tangible kind of pain that slivered through his chest and rested in the pit of his stomach as he thought about how horrible she must be feeling at the moment.

The thought of her pain was hurting _him_. What the hell was wrong with him?

He sighed and pushed her back, making her back bump against the wall as he shook his head. "Pan, stop, we need to,"

"Just shut-up." She commanded, unbuttoning her pants and then reaching to undo the zip. He shook his head, stepped up to her, and pressed his hands gently on hers. He wasn't going to do this to her. He wouldn't be the one to add pain to her already breaking heart. Not anymore.

"Please?" She begged him softly, staring up into his eyes and letting him see right into her soul. She needed him, he could hear it, feel it, without her having to say the words. And he didn't know what to do.

They needed to talk about this, she looked on the verge of tears. But he had the feeling that if he opened his mouth to hold a conversation with her, no good would come of it. He needed to calm her down first. He needed to at least get her to relax.

Well, he wasn't going to have angry sex with her to do that. He resolved determinedly, shaking his head and taking another step back from her.

"Talk to me, Pan, or go home." He admonished, looking down at her seriously so that she could see how much it was hurting him to say this. He didn't want to send her home, not like this.

"Fine." She retorted, re-buttoning her pants and then leaning down to scoop up her shirt. "Have it your way, you always do." He could nearly taste the bitter tone to her voice as she said it, and it made his back straighten as he watched her throw the shirt back over her head.

Well, shit, what was he supposed to say to that?

While he stood there, gaping, she glared one last time and turned to walk towards the door. He put his hand on her shoulder, stopping her, before he had the chance to think about it. He couldn't just send her away like this. He could at least try and comfort her.

He placed his hands delicately on her hips, after she'd turned all the way back around to face him, and slowly led her back to the wall. He was setting the pace. He was calling the shots. He always did and that was the way he liked it.

He slipped his hands under her shirt, rubbing the sides of the skin there with practiced ease, in a way that he knew from experience she enjoyed. Leaning over, he kissed her cheek, then moved gracefully down her face, curving around her chin and then down her neck. Her eyes were closed in satisfaction when he lifted his head back up to see her face.

"Tell me what's wrong." He commanded softly, running his hands further up her shirt and moving closer to her in order to distract her mind from the fact that his question was supposed to make her angry. He nibbled her ear as he waited for her to respond, feeling the tenseness of her body ease up the slightest bit with his every touch.

"I don't want to." She whispered after a moment, as he pushed the groan back that wanted to spill when she ran her hands up his chest and encircled his neck. "I don't want to talk. Please, let's not."

Her eyes were closed again, he noticed as he nodded, which meant that he'd have to respond to her audibly. He opened his mouth to agree, loving the sensation that stirred within him when her fingers started to play with the hairs on the nape of his neck, but decided against talking all together. She was right.

They could say everything they needed to say with their body movements and mannerisms. And he was not going to let her shake him from his original intentions. Which were to comfort her, not jump her against this wall so that they could both get it out of their systems.

He stepped back a little, placed his hand on her chin, and lifted her face up so that she'd have to open his eyes to see what he wanted. When she opened them, he leaned down and placed a feather light kiss on her lips. She closed them, attempting to deepen the kiss, and he pulled away. They repeated this process a few more times before she got the hint and kept her eyes opened.

Satisfied, he moved to other parts of her body, taking the edges of her shirt in his hands and pulling it over her head swiftly. The bra came next, without any hesitation, and he smirked when he saw the shock flit through her expression. Her eyes remained open, except when she blinked.

His kisses were soft, light, exploratory and curious, as if he had never even been to second base before, much less with _her_. He started at her collarbone, nibbling gently then kissing so softly that she squirmed where she was standing and a little moan fell from her lips every time she realized he wasn't going to move on just yet.

As his lips descended, his hands ascended, until his lips were right above her breasts and his hands were right below. Then he just stopped moving. His breath fell like sweet caresses against her skin, melting into the center of her body and making her shiver from the core. He had _never_ touched her like this before.

He fought the urge to smirk as he felt how anxious she was for him to move, simply by the way she shifted the weight in her feet. She didn't say anything, though her breathing did escalade and every now and then she let out a soft, whimpering, moan. Ah, how he loved that sounds she made when he pleased her in any way.

Finally, his lips landed on her left breast and she let out a heavy sigh that was very clearly heard as, "_Trunks_."

Dende he loved the way she said his name. It sent a sense of pride and excitement through him that made _him_ groan as he lightly licked the center of her breast. One of his hands took up the task of caressing the other while his other hand moved to hover over the button on her jeans.

She arched into him, curving her body against his, as his hand slipped the button loose and his mouth caressed her breast tenderly.

She slipped her hands around his face and pulled it away from her chest, breathing heavy and eyes dark with the overwhelming passion of the moment. He sighed when he looked into her eyes, his stomach filling with something that wasn't lust. It wasn't lust at all, he realized as she pulled his face towards hers, his lips softly making contact with her own.

It was butterflies. She'd just given him butterflies with a simple look into his eyes.

When their lips touched, it was like they had never kissed before. Like they hadn't done this a million times. Her lips against his were gentle, pliable, and very willing for whatever he wanted from her. He groaned, unable to fully express how he felt, and pressed his body fully against hers. He was aroused for no other reason than her kisses were like heaven against his lips.

She gasped when he moved against her and his tongue swept into her mouth. Slowly, gently, leading her into the most intense kiss she had ever experienced in her life.

Her stomach knotted as she bent her head to him, giving him complete access to her mouth. Her heart, she realized, he had access to her heart. When he was touching her, kissing her, like this she felt like a virgin. Untouched, unexplored, untaught in the ways of making love. Like she had never been with him, or anyone, before. Blissfully, she joined her tongue with his and they stayed that way for quite some time.

Then his hands slid down her sides again, brushing against her breasts, and as they pulled apart for air she curled her leg around his own and forced a closer intimacy between them because his body was drawn into hers.

They both gasped when they realized, each of them struggling to control their bodies as the sensations overwhelmed them.

Trunks moved slowly, sliding his hands in-between their bodies and carefully tugging her pants down. She stepped out of them, pushing his wife-beater up and off of his body before he slid his own pants off. They continued undressing each other, in a silent dance that only they knew the steps to, as she pushed him back towards the bed. He twisted so that she landed before him, and he hovered over her.

He moved slowly, gently, sweetly, over her, his hands running over her body in arousing coercion of unnecessary play before he slid into her just as slowly, lacing his fingers through hers and looking down into her face–her eyes–while he moved inside her.

The message, as he held her hands above her head, laced in his own, was painfully clear: they weren't having sex anymore. _This_ wasn't sex.

That's when he saw them, the gleaming, clear tears sliding out of her eyes in a steady rhythm. And he honestly considered pulling out, just holding her, but it was too late. It hurt him, more than anything–even his own pain–had ever hurt him before. Sighing inwardly, he decided to do something he had never done in his life before.

He shifted on her body, unhooking his fingers from hers and dropping all of his weight on her, letting her feel him in every way possible as he moved their bodies, flipping so that she was on top of him. He moved his hands to her hips and squeezed the sides lightly, knowing that she didn't want words but gathering, from the stilled motions their bodies had taken on, that she didn't know what he thought he was doing. Momentarily shocked, she still didn't move.

He had never given her–or anyone else–total control before. He had just never been a man to be ridden, it wasn't something he did. But today, this time, for _her_ he would make that exception. He started to trace patterns on her hip bones, smirking lightly at her miffed expression, then he moved up her torso, gliding his fingers playfully across her stomach, past the sides of her breasts, up her neck.

He wiped away the tears on her cheek and caressed her face before moving his hands back to her neck.

Finally, she smiled, looked him right in the eyes, and began to move. The pace was slow, _very_ slow, and it created a nearly unbearable pressure inside him as he resisted the urge to rush her. His hands did, however, move back down to her hips and apply a little more force as she pulled up and froze then inched back down at a snail's pace.

She knew what she was doing and it was driving him mad with impatience. Deciding that two could play that same game, he let his fingers dance back up her body and land on her breasts, massaging them until her pace kicked up considerably. Her breathing, his breathing, and their cries all matched in intensity and synchronized with one another as she rode him to climax. For the first time in his life, Trunks wasn't a person inside of another person, he was one _with_ that person.

There was no definite difference between them. He didn't end, she didn't begin, they just... were. They were one.

But the look on her face, in her eyes, as they descended from their high, told him that this was one moment that had to be frozen in time. A one in a million and never again. When her sweat slicked body slid away from his, when she separated herself from him and threw her eyes back in his direction, his heart caught. He saw the pain, clearly _saw_ the heartache, and he knew.

And there was nothing he could say to stop it, change it, or defend himself.

Everything he'd done to her slid back into his mind. Every single time he'd used her, hurt her, said something intentionally cruel, flit through his head and made his eyes water. When she drew in a shuddering breath of air, so did he, and when she stood up and moved away from him, he stood and countered the distance.

Her eyes told him just how horribly she felt. And he had never felt so close to someone and so far away from them at the same time. He had never been that apart of someone and that apart from them simultaneously. Today, he had achieved the impossible.

And today, she wasn't going to let him get away with it again.

Maybe it was _because_ this time was different, or maybe it was because she had just reached the end of her patience. But, whatever the reason, when she gathered her clothes and began to dress silently, eyes distantly hurt and cold, he knew.

This was the last time.

He had waited one time too long to love her and she didn't want it anymore. And there was nothing he could say. He had never been this powerless before.

Keeping true to her want of silence, she left his room–his life–without a word of closure or solace or goodbye. And, partly because he wanted to honor her request, mainly because he knew nothing he said would matter, he didn't call out her name to stop her.

He just curled back on his bed and, like he was sure she had done many nights after being silently forced by him to leave, cried himself into the most fitful sleep of his life.

#######

The moment after she said it seemed to last forever. It just...didn't end. He wasn't sure if he was still breathing or if he even remembered _how _to breathe. He wasn't sure if his heart was beating or if there was a mallet pounding in his ears. Nothing else existed but her words, hovering over him like the plague, shocking him and making him forget all else.

Had she said what he'd heard? Because, if she had, how did she expect him to react to it? What was he supposed to do, laugh it off? Not very likely. Not likely at all.

He felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach and all the air had swooped right out of his body. It was over. It was _really_ over. Not just the temporary, see you in a couple of months, kind-of over. But the permanent, I've really screwed up and we'll never meet again, kind-of over. There was no forgiveness for this.

And there wasn't enough alcohol in all of America to get her that damn drunk. Not drunk enough that she hadn't known what she was doing. None.

"You got married?" He finally heard a raspy voice ask and discovered that it was his own. He sounded wounded and he winced, hating that his own voice had betrayed his emotions and came out like that. He wasn't supposed to care, he chided himself. But at that moment, he couldn't list one reason why he shouldn't be upset, hurt, and down-right outraged.

He couldn't have picked Bra out of a line-up.

"Paris, what the.." His sentence trailed off as the reality hit him. "You got _married_. To someone else!" He would have shouted this part if his voice hadn't cracked and come out in a dry whisper. "You got _someone else's name_ tattooed on your body."

"_You're_ one to talk." She challenged smugly, shifting her green eyes over to Bra's shocked face and then back to him. "Look at where you are at this unholy late hour in the night. Why are _you_ here?"

"Why the hell are _you_ here? You're someone else's wife." He spat back, still not remembering the fact that he had wanted him and Paris to be over. That he had wanted someone else.

"I told you I was drunk, Goten. I told you that I thought it was a great joke and I wasn't aware of what I was doing. We're not going to stay married, gah, I don't even know where this guy lives."

"Well, that's great Paris, that makes you sound real good." He supplied sarcastically, the anger dancing around his face and emanating from his body.

"Okay," That wasn't Paris' voice that came out annoyed and... hurt, it was someone else's. His body and mind snapped to attention when he realized it was Bra's, that he was at Bra's house and he wasn't just here on a casual social call. He had forgotten her and she seemed to have noticed.

"If you're going to have a lover's spat, do it some-fucking-where else. I don't want to hear it, know about it, or even pretend like I care. Goten, kindly take your stray and chastise her in the wilderness or something. I'm not in the_ mood_."

"Bra, I wanted," He started, turning to her with a pleading look before he even realized he was talking. When his eyes landed on hers and he caught fire there that he had never seen before, he stopped. There was something different about this Bra. Something he hadn't ever known her to be.

And she was really angry with him. He couldn't remember a time where Bra had been angry with _him_. Never. She always smiled and supported him in everything he did. Couldn't she see that, right now, he had a crisis on his hands and it needed to be dealt with? Couldn't she have patience and understand that this was slightly more important that any conversation they were about to have?

This was immediately urgent; his fiancé just gotten _married _to another man. And now—_now—_she wanted to assert her authority? Well that was just great. Sighing, he rubbed the bridge of his nose and nodded his head. Yes, if she wanted him out, he would leave. Clearly, she was stressed as it was. And, apparently, he had plenty on his plate as well.

He had a niece who was sleeping with his used-to-be best friend, who was fourteen _years_ older than her, a woman that he was supposed to marry already married to someone else, and an unfinished break-up with that same woman to handle. This was more than enough to deal with for one night. He sighed and ushered Paris out, giving Bra one last, sincerely stressed look before he did.

He had a feeling that he had just lost all chances of ever being more than friends with her. He wasn't quite clear on why, but the cold, distant look on her face as she shut the door in _his_ face was enough to make him understand that much.

Bra glowered at his retreating back, she was through waiting patiently while he put other people before her feelings. She wasn't going to play second-best anymore.

_To be contined..._


	20. HumptyDumpty

Rainwater  
Chapter 19: Humpty-Dumpty   
Rating: R for sexual situations and suggestions, adult topics and language.  
_WitchyPrincess_

_Humpty-Dumpty_

_The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different outcome each time. The incapacity to extinguish the difference between right and wrong. Consistent foolishness. Mental deterioration that renders one unable to make sound decisions or be held responsible for their actions. _

_Well, I guess I'll have to plea temporary insanity then. It's the only explanation for my own stupid behavior. _

_I don't know why but I just...I thought that the more I tried with him the better things would get. And I wasn't able to get to the part where my actions were wrong. I wasn't able to understand that no matter how many times I melted in his arms, the feelings wouldn't be returned. I kept believing that he would come around. Giving him the benefit of the doubt._

_The truth is, at the end, he might have. I could have gotten what I wanted. But, funny thing about that was, I didn't want it anymore. A day late, a dollar short, you know? _

_And now that it's over and done with, I don' t want anything to do with the consequences. And I definitely don't want to be held responsible for my actions. Yes, pleading insanity is the best option to get out of this mess unpunished. _

_–Pan Son  
_ #######

She was filthy. That was how she felt - worse than the first time. Just plain filthy. No amount of shower-water or crying could wash it away. She didn't even attempt to try and wash it away.

Three days and the feeling hadn't lessened. She was living her life, going through the motions, moving when she should, still when she shouldn't, but she wasn't really living. She was the walking dead and everyone that looked at her saw it.

Pan knew what she had to do, she just couldn't bring herself to do it. She didn't like admitting she was wrong but she had to this time. This time she had been _very_ wrong and she had to apologize and humble herself. She had to take whatever was thrown at her.

This time she had really done it. And it just _had_ to be when she'd thrown her father out of her life. When she needed him the most.

So that was why she was here. Standing on her parents' porch but afraid to knock, or even move close to the door. She was trembling like a leaf, terrified all over, and her feet were plastered right in the spot where they rested.

She lifted her hand, drawing in a deep breath, and feigned knocking on the door, really only knocking on air. Her eyes were glazed over with pain and fear. What was her father going to say to her when he saw her? He had every right to shut the door in her face and send her away.

That thought sent her knees weak and made her body collapse on herself. She crumbled, like hard bread, and buried her face in her knees. Her shoulders started wracking with sobs as she cried for the first time since she left Trunks' bed.

That thought was enough to send her into a deeper fit of sobbing. She was crying so hard the tears didn't even fall, the heart-breaking, gut-wrenching sobs just erupted from her throat and shook her entire frame. She didn't even hear the door open or feel the person standing over her with an angry and crushed expression on their face.

But she did feel his arms when he wrapped them around her body and pulled her up. She felt his comfort when he gently pushed her face into his shoulder then swooped her legs up and carried her in the house as if she was a little girl. And she was; she was _his_ little girl.

#######

It had taken every bit of his self-control not to kill Trunks when he first realized that the man had taken advantage of his little girl. But, then, he knew his little girl and, as much as Gohan wanted to fool himself, he was aware that Pan was probably as much to blame as Trunks.

That didn't change the fact that Pan was young, had insecurity problems, and had always been in love with Trunks. That didn't change the fact that Trunks was old enough to know better and experienced enough to realize that what he was doing with Pan was wrong - even if she was willing. And it didn't change how badly Gohan wanted to rip him limb from limb when he saw Pan's face: blotchy-red from lack of oxygen while she tried to cry and not cry at the same time, eyes dimmed and lost, expression distorted in pain.

She was never supposed to know that kind of pain. Never.

If he could have, he would have cried all her tears for her, erased all the pain she could possibly ever feel, and keep her safe in his arms forever. But he couldn't do that and she didn't want him to, she had made that perfectly clear.

It was easy to forget that she didn't want him in her life, though, when she was curled up in his arms, face buried in his shoulder, and crying so hard that it wracked his whole body as well as hers.

It was easy to forget everything except what Trunks' bones would sound like when he crunched them into tiny bits and pieces. And he had every intention of breaking some.

Ultimately, it was only the guilt that egged his mind and soul, telling him that he had known what was going on and had said nothing to stop it because of his pride and foolish need to teach his daughter a lesson, that stopped his murderous daydreams about the aforementioned demi-Saiyan. If it hadn't been for the fact that he was sure Pan had dug her own hole–made her own bed, so to speak–and needed to suffer the consequences, that and Videl's definite warning after their daughter was asleep and in her old bed, he would have already been holding the man's inflated head in his nimble fingers.

Malice still wracked every crevice of his body and crept through every core of his mind. Trunks had better make sure, Gohan thought dangerously, that they never crossed paths. If they did, he would kill the boy without a second thought and he knew it. He was sure, by the surging of his ki with every moment that he continued to think about it and hear Pan's whimpers in her sleep, that Trunks knew it as well. That boy was the walking target–literally.

#######

The first day after she cried was the worst. She spent the whole day at her parents' house locked up in her room, shaking and curled up in the bed. She didn't eat, barely moved, just stared out into space. Videl was scared, watching it. She had known something horrible would happen but she didn't know the extent of how atrocious it would be.

Her daughter was having a mental breakdown and she was helpless to stop it. Pan was burrowing inside herself, trying to find something that wasn't there. Trying to recapture her meaning for existence. Videl, from past experience of having almost lost everything that mattered to her when she believed Gohan to be dead, knew what the girl was going through.

Pan no longer knew what she was living for and that was the worst kind of lost to be. She had no meaning, no purpose anymore. But, despite it all, Videl was proud of her daughter. She had finally heard what the woman was trying to tell her when they were in her apartment. And Pan had to learn for herself that sometimes the things that felt the best, hurt the worst in the end.

Watching your child stray, fall, and try and pick themselves up was the hardest part of parenting because you wanted to carry them instead of letting them walk. You wanted to shelter them and you couldn't; you could only offer your hand while they were picking up the pieces.

That was what she was going to do for Pan.

The second day was slightly better. Pan allowed Videl to hold her while she cried that day, and even ate a bit of the food that they left for her. By the fourth day she was eating soft foods and drinking plenty of liquids. And she wasn't crying in her sleep anymore.

Two weeks passed before Pan was walking and functioning, back to normal. The poison that Trunks had left in her body had bled out, and she could see the light returning to her daughter's eyes. Pan left two days later and Videl felt okay with that.

She knew Pan wasn't back to normal yet and that maybe she never would be 'normal' but that didn't mean the girl wasn't recovering. And the rest of that recovery had to be done alone. She could understand and respect that. Still, that didn't stop her from telling Pan to call every two days and to stop by and see them soon. She didn't want her daughter to lose hope and not be there to lend her some.

#######

He didn't know which one was harder: knowing Paris was gone or knowing Bra was. He hadn't wanted to keep Paris, he honestly hadn't. It wasn't that she meant something to him anymore, it was simply that she had meant everything to him for so long. And everything happened so quickly, he was confused. He was still confused, nearly three weeks later, and that wasn't something he was proud of.

He'd tried talking to Bra, a couple of days ago, he really had. But she was avoiding him as if he were the devil in human form. He couldn't find her anywhere. She didn't answer calls, she didn't return calls, she wasn't home–even when he _knew_ she was–and she wouldn't talk to him. He hated the silent treatment.

And Paris was _married_ to someone else! _Now_ was the time Bra chose to avoid him? When they could finally be together and have a clear conscience about it, she chose to want to be through with him. Or maybe, a nagging voice in the back of his head reasoned, she hadn't just chosen. Maybe she'd given up on him after the Carribean Fiasco. He didn't really know, did he, because he never called to check up on her.

How was he supposed to be any kind of _anything_ to her if he forgot all about her feelings when things got tough? After the Carribean trip he hadn't wondered if she was all right, hadn't stopped by to see how she was doing. He hadn't really given seeing her–because there was the possibility that she was incredibly hurt–a second thought. Sure, he'd debated with himself, a million times, whether or not he should see her just because he wanted to.

Because he couldn't sleep at night. Because he couldn't think about anything but her, them, and that kiss. And, to top it off, Paris was making it perfectly clear, all the while, that she wasn't the one for Goten. She was a lovely girl, in her own right, she really was. But she just wasn't everything he needed.

If she was, if they had made the wonderful couple he thought they did, would they have lasted this long just dating? They had been on and off dating for about seven years. That just wasn't normal, was it?

He had never thought about his dating Paris that way before. He had always just thought, if they had made it that long, they belonged together. But it wasn't whether or not they were still together. It was so much more. It was more than just whether or not he was still attracted to her. Whether he still enjoyed talking to her and just generally being with her.

It was about whether or not he looked forward to seeing her and being with her. It was about whether or not she could still make him smile the way she used, and him the same for her. Did he miss her when she wasn't around? Not did he miss being with somebody but did he miss _her_?

When he kissed her, was she the only person he ever wanted to kiss, forever? Could he promise that, years from now, just being comfortable with someone would be enough?

He didn't want 'good enough' and it was time he admitted that was what he had. He'd always known something was wrong with them; that was why they broke up, got back together, and then broke up again. Over and over as if it were some kind of sick, vicious cycle. That was why he never went back to her, always waited for her to come back to him. And that was why he didn't fret when she didn't come back to him the last time.

Not until Bra came back.

Which led him back to the problem at hand: Bra. Who didn't want him anymore. Too little, too late. And he knew she was right, that was the worst part. She had been at the tip of his fingertips and he'd let her slip away. So that he could talk to a woman whom he knew was leaving him.

Well, no, that wasn't true. Paris hadn't left him, he had told her to leave.

She had thought that, even after she got drunk, tattooed someone else's name on her body, and married said person, he would forgive her and take her back. She had thought they could work things out after she got married to someone else. She was someone's wife! The thought still rattled him.

He wasn't upset, though, because she had gotten married. He wasn't upset at all that they weren't together anymore and he realized that this meant he hadn't truly cared for her. At least not towards the end. He was upset because his pride was hurt. She'd picked someone over him.

He was the one that was supposed to do the leaving. He was going to dump her. He was the one that was supposed to end things this time, not the other way around, it was his turn. And she knew it so she beat him to the punch. He hated losing. Always.

That was selfish, and petty, he knew. But that didn't change the fact that he was angry about it.

So, the question was, what was he going to do now?

Bra didn't want him, that much was clear. Paris wanted him but he wasn't going to go down that route again. And he didn't know, truly, what he wanted. Well, he wanted Bra, but he wasn't sure why. Or where it came from, or what would happen to that feeling when he–_if_ he ever got her.

Would he still want her or would the 'forbidden fruit' illusion be just that?

And then there was the pesky little issue of his niece. Whom also was avoiding him, and every other living soul, as if they were hell imposing on her doorstep. She had left her apartment, for some reason, to stay at her parents. And she hadn't come out any time he requested to visit her.

He'd had every intention of laying into her about that whole Trunks incident until Gohan gave him that stern, brotherly-I'm-older-than-you-so-pay-attention look, and shut him up. He'd told him not to say anything to Pan and that she had learned her lesson. But, really, Goten thought that if she was stupid enough to do something that low and...just plain irresponsible, then she was woman enough to take the browbeating that came along with it.

She was sane enough to realize that she was sleeping with Trunks. And that sleeping with Trunks was wrong. So she should be big enough to accept the consequences. And he didn't think it was fair that Gohan was protecting her that way. But, then again, she was his little girl. And protecting came along with the job.

That didn't stop Goten, however, from laying into Gohan for letting Pan do something so stupid. Which in turn got him a nasty glare, a fevered explanation, and kicked out of the Son household. Apparently, people didn't like to hear about their mistakes in an I-told-you-so manner. Even though Goten hadn't known beforehand, he assured Gohan that if he _had_ known, he would have stopped Pan.

Which led to Gohan pointing out that he _hadn't_ known. And everyone else had known. That just happened to make Goten feel like the worst, most self-absorbed person on Earth, and shut him up real quick. The fight had started after that and then he was kicked out.

Really though, thinking back on Gohan's vessels popping out of his neck, it was quite funny. Goten nearly chuckled but then he remembered the subject manner and instantly sobered.

He was still going to talk to Pan, he decided. Despite what Gohan had said. She was practically his sister and he was going to look after her. And then he was going to talk to Trunks and, quite possibly, punch him in the face. He had no right to treat Pan that way; like a slut.

There was nothing Pan could have done to Trunks to justify his behavior. Trunks was older, more experienced, and he had more practical sense than Pan; Pan had always been unrealistically spontaneous. Trunks could have had some self control over himself, he was a grown, old, man.

But thinking of the age difference reminded him of Bra and made him think that fourteen years wasn't _so_ much. Except he would never take advantage of _Bra's_ feelings for him that way. And he had been given the opportunity. The only difference between him and Trunks then was that Goten was a man and Trunks was still an immature little boy. He was irresponsible. And unjustified, he had no right.

Goten beat his fist on the table angrily as he thought this, not even jumping when his apartment door opened and shut roughly because he was so intent on his frustration.

"Goten," a smooth voice called out, slightly edgy in it's tone. "I need to talk to you."

It was Ubuu and, apparently, Goten hadn't locked his apartment door earlier when he came in. "What is it?" Goten asked as he heard the footsteps get nearer the kitchen. Then, when Ubuu was in sight, Goten drew in a breath.

He looked worse than Goten did and that was saying something. "What the hell happened to you?" Goten questioned curiously, lifting an eyebrow in confusion.

#######

She was done. It had taken her long enough but she really was done this time. For nearly a decade she had been wearing her heart on her sleeve for this man and now she was finally going to yank it back. It wasn't his to hold onto.

When she wanted to give it to him, he didn't want to accept it. When he had come around and she was _still_ willing to hand it to him, he forgot he was reaching out for it. And now she had retracted her hand. And it hurt; like one of her limbs was missing. She kept trying to reach for it, kept trying to use it, but it wasn't there. It stung, like the memory of his face when she threw him out of her house.

Finished. And he knew it.

That still didn't change the fact that she wanted to coddle him and tell him everything would be okay in the morning. That she wanted to find Paris and ask her what on Earth was wrong to make her go off and marry someone else. She wanted to forgive Goten of everything he could have possibly ever done to hurt her. But she couldn't.

Hadn't she just told Pan that if you put up with a man's crap, he'll never change? Would she, now, put up with Goten's just because he was willing to look in her direction, and be a hypocrite? After Pan took her advice to heart and finally walked away from Trunks?

At the thought of her brother, a dangerous shiver raced through her body, sending chills of guilt all over her. If she hadn't said anything to Pan, the girl might not have walked out of Trunks' life. Then he wouldn't be so torn apart right now.

She had never seen her brother more upset. When she looked in his eyes she felt like she was staring at a ghost. Like he had no soul, no feelings, no _being_ inside him. No reason for living anymore. But he didn't complain because he knew. He knew it was his fault and he deserved what he got.

And Bra knew. She just couldn't help feeling bad for him. Even if she was glad, because she had learned that she loved Pan as a sister, that Pan had walked away. Pan had saved herself. Yet, when it came to them, Bra was torn in two separate directions.

If Trunks was in love with Pan, why didn't he show it? Why didn't he realize it before she left him? Why had he acted the way he had? If he was in love with her then why couldn't he have just said it and treated her like a person and not a toy? If he could have, then all of this heartbreak could have been avoided. Pan was in love with Trunks, and her brother knew it.

So why would he keep his feelings from her?

Bra wished she could just blame him and be done with it. But she couldn't because of the way he kept to himself. He took full responsibility for the situation, not allowing anyone the chance to say anything negative to him because he beat them to the punch. He was _deteriorating _before their very eyes, he was so sad. And she loved her brother and she didn't want to see him hurt that way.

So maybe there had been a lot about Trunks and Pan's relationship that Bra just hadn't understood. If he was this distraught over Pan leaving, maybe there had been so much more than what she thought there had been. And maybe, just maybe, she'd spoken too soon and too out of turn. Maybe she'd done the wrong thing.

Two people that loved one another, no matter the circumstances, should be together. Despite it all. That was just what she believed.

Of course, Goten didn't love her. He said he wanted her but he didn't say he loved her. And he didn't act as though he wanted her; otherwise he would have focused more on her and less on Paris. Otherwise, he wouldn't have forgotten about her completely just because Paris was in the room. And, truth be told, she was tired of playing second best to Paris.

She was tired of being the person thought of last. It was time for her to step up and speak for herself, time for her to make sure her life was the way she wanted it to be. She didn't need Goten to be happy, she had just wanted him.

She was not going to base her life on someone else. Not anymore. She was going to be the Saiyan Princess she knew she could be. She was going to be strong, and independent, and she was going to do it without making a big fuss.

She wouldn't hold her breath, waiting for Goten to come around anymore. Even with Paris out of the picture, if Paris _was_ out of the picture, she wasn't going to fall into Goten's arms. Not without a fight, at least. And if he wasn't willing to fight, like she'd been, then she didn't want him anyway. He didn't deserve her.

It was the sound of her brother's footsteps that drew her out of the world of the dead, thinking of her own problems, and made her realize she was sitting on the window sill in the living room again. Her shoulders were shaking up and down as if she were crying. But she wasn't; she couldn't cry.

"Why are you awake?" His voice came out scratchy, as if unused for a few days.

She swallowed, bit her lip, but didn't respond. Her head, by the time he spoke, had come up, her eyes meeting his own. He sighed and walked past her, headed for the kitchen.

"Why are you?" She challenged, before he could make it out of the living room.

He sighed. She could nearly feel him tense as he paused in his get-away. Then he turned back around, agonizingly slowly, and set her with a penetrating glare.

"It's unnatural to wake up thinking about someone, go through your day thinking about them, go to bed thinking about them, and still have dreams about them at night. It's not fair that you can't even escape their pain in your dreams. When even in your dreams, the one person you want most to hold, won't let you touch them, there's something wrong. And it's no wonder you don't go to sleep."

She nodded, closing her eyes, resting her head on the window pane and knowing she shouldn't have asked. She felt his pain when talked, literally felt it creep through in the sound of his voice. And she felt bad for him. She loved him most in the world and he was hurting. What could she say? You deserve it?

She opened her eyes slowly to look at him, he was still staring at her, glaring. A hurtful smirk crossed his face, as if he'd read her mind, and he shook his head when her eyes read into his heart. "You don't have to say it, Bra. You don't have to say anything. I know. I asked for this and it's no one's fault but my own."

Her breathing escalated as she forced herself to spit out her question. One word. "Why?" Why had he done this to Pan?

"Why are you in love with Goten? And why, if you're in love with him, won't you pursue it with all your heart? Why do you protect yourself, guard yourself, the way you do? Why did you leave and go to New York? Why didn't you come back? Why haven't you tried explaining yourself or fixing whatever problems pushed you away?

"Why ask why, Bra? Because it was. And it is. And it happened the way it happened. I loved her too late and that's all there is to it. I think it's called karma. And I think it's killing me; I've become living death."

She glared momentarily, opening her mouth to defend herself, but thought better of it. He had said something, something significant. She couldn't let it pass. "You can never love anyone too late, Trunks. If you love her, and she loves you, there's something you can do about this. There's-"

"Even if there was, Bra, I wouldn't do it." He cut her off quickly. "She deserves something so much better than me. I just wish I could take away all the pain I've caused her. Undue all the damage. And if, after all this, she can find someone who loves her, someone who can take her, unconditionally, the way I would be able to now, then I hope she hangs on to it. I hope she is able to forgive herself, if nothing else, and move on past the shit I put her through.

"I hope she finds someone who loves her the way I do. And who'll treat her better than I ever could. Because she deserves it. And I don't deserve her."

"Whether that's true or not, she loves _you_. She can't change that. And, even if you're not good enough for her, she deserves to be loved by the person she loves most. Asking her not to be is unfair."

"What are you saying then? That I should pursue Pan after all this? Dende, Bra, I can't _do_ that. I can't hurt her again. I won't."

"Exactly." She intoned, a look of wisdom on her pale face.

"No. It isn't right." He shook the notion off, completely dismissing it before it had a chance to corrupt him, if even only for a second. He wouldn't allow it.

She sighed. "Okay, Trunks, do me a favor, will you? Just one favor? For old time's sake."

"What, Bra?"

"Promise me that, if she comes back to _you_, if she forgives _you_, you won't let the opportunity pass. Promise me you'll try and make things right. Please?"

"She never wants to see me again and I'm going to make sure she gets her wish." He finalized, face set so that she dropped the subject immediately. "But do me a favor, would you?" He asked after a second, noticing how pale and thin she was.

"Promise _me_ that you'll talk to someone about whatever it is that's got you looking so distraught. Even if you don't talk to me, talk to _someone_. Because I," He stopped, voice chocked, and moved closer to her direction.

Her eyes had closed due to stinging pain, and she was trembling in all parts of her body. She wasn't crying, not a drop, not one single drop. But she was hyperventilating in a way he had never seen her do before. He took her in his arms and cradled her, falling to the floor and curling her body against his own, rocking her as if she were a little child.

"Shhh," he whispered, rubbing his hands over her blue hair and the sides of her face. "Shhh, it's okay Bra. Please, tell me what's wrong."

"He's gone, Trunks," she murmured, burying her head in the crook of his neck. "He's gone and he's not coming back. I sent him away, I just _sent him away_." She was sobbing invisible tears that wouldn't come. "And I can't have him now, not now. He'll never fight for me. He won't come back." The last part was said so softy and in broken pieces that he hardly caught it.

He didn't say anything about that, didn't question her for meaning. Only soothed her, whispering unintelligible words of comfort in her ear as he rocked her. He held her and rocked her until she fell asleep. And then he held her some more.

#######

It took him a long time to even come up with an answer. His heart was pounding fast, his face pale, his hands shaking with rage and defeat. He had held it in for so long that he was afraid, if he didn't talk to someone, he would burst.

He had tried to tell her, a million times, that she needed to be calm and rational. That she needed to think about other people's feelings. That, when she made a decision, she should be open and honest about it with all the people around her. Especially this, this had changed his _life_.

It wasn't fair that she was the only one that had a say in it. It wasn't fair that she had done something like that–so personal, and loving, and _committing_–with him when he didn't know her true reason behind it. It was manipulative. It was cruel.

And she deserved what she got.

But that didn't change anything. He couldn't help but, "Love her. I love her, Goten." He came into the kitchen and took a seat, resting his head on the table in front of him.

"Who, Ubuu? What are you talking about?"

"I love her and she thought she could just use my emotions and then throw them away like that. She thought because she's Marron, that she could just offer me sex and everything would be okay. I thought I had her heart, Goten," he pleaded, looking up from the table with crushed eyes.

"Do you know what that feels like?" He demanded, banging his hands on the sturdy wood. "Do you know what it's like to offer your entire being to someone else, to think that they're accepting it, and find out that they were only thinking about themselves!?"

Goten swallowed, moving away from the table a bit and reaching out a cautioning hand. He gently placed it on Ubuu's shoulder. "It's okay, why don't you tell me from the beginning?"

Somehow, hearing Ubuu's confession, made a guilty sort-of air rise up in Goten's heart. It made him flash back to Bra's face when she'd kicked him out of her house. Her eyes had looked just as angry, just as crushed, as Ubuu's. His gut churned in realization.

"There's no need to go all the way back there. It doesn't matter now. What matters is that she slept with me. She thought we slept together in the Carribean, apparently, and of course we hadn't. I had been angry with her because she got herself so drunk, drunk enough to fall into some strangers arms. And then I'd had to spend the entire night fighting her off me until she passed out.

"Do you know how hard it is to fight off someone that's throwing themselves at you, when you're in love with them? But Marron's an idiot drunk, so I knew she didn't know what she was doing. And then she slept with me."

"What?" Goten asked, confused. "I thought you said you didn't sleep with her?"

"Not _then_. But she woke up and thought we'd slept together. And I wasn't talking to her because she's such an idiot drunk, so she thought I was angry because she couldn't remember sleeping with me. So she came to me, a while later, and slept with me. Somehow she thought that would make it better. But do you know what it's like to realize, after you've just shared something that personal with someone else, that they were only doing it because they were curious and they wanted to make amends for something that _didn't even happen_?"

"Maybe she genuinely cares for you," Goten chimed in, feeling more of that guilt stir his soul. He had been curious. Wasn't that why he was at Bra's house? It certainly wasn't because he loved her; but he did care for her. Shouldn't that count for something?

"So what? She couldn't be honest and up-front about that? She couldn't say: 'look, I'm starting to care for you as more than just a friend, but I want to see where that takes me and not rush into things'? She couldn't have asked me what I thought about it and given me a chance to think it over? She just had to make a declaration, for both of us, without giving me all the facts or any options?"

"Maybe she didn't think about all that." Goten challenged, starting to get defensive.

"And maybe she's just so inconsiderate and stuck in her own world, that she couldn't step out of it for a second to remember I had a heart." Ubuu spat, leaning back in his chair.

Goten was shell-shocked. Did he ignore Bra? Did he not notice who she was, how she felt?

"She takes me for granted." Ubuu added, as if in afterthought, a bitter smile on his lips.

Did he take Bra for granted?

"What makes you say so?" Goten asked, sounding guilty this time. Ubuu gave him a questioning glare.

"She pretends like she hasn't noticed how in love with her I am. She doesn't appreciate everything I do for her, never even noticed how well she had it with me until I walked away from her. She didn't realize how many wrongs I'd forgiven her for until the _one time_ when I decided she'd just crossed the line. And now she wants to sit at home and mope, ignore my phone calls, and just generally stay away from me as if I've broken _her_ heart and _she_ deserves an apology."

He was right. Bra had forgiven him for a million things without saying a word and the one time when she hadn't he'd become unjustifiably angry. He hadn't seriously tried to talk to her since, the sorry attempts that she could easily ignore didn't count. He was a jerk. A self-centered jerk.

"You're right," he spoke aloud, amazement to his voice. Ubuu gave him another confused glare before shaking his head.

"What's up with you?" He asked, not missing the way his friend seemed to have checked out on him. "What are you on about?"

"Hey, listen, Ubuu. Maybe Marron doesn't realize how you feel. And, if you love her that much, maybe you should tell her these things instead of me. She can't change if she doesn't know what she's doing wrong, can she?"

Ubuu was quiet for a few minutes before he sighed heavily. "That's what I've been trying to do but she won't return my phone calls. And now I'm beginning to think that I shouldn't have reacted the way I had in the first place." He admitted sheepishly. "I mean, I did kick her out of my house. And she looked crushed. I've never wanted to see her look like that, much less be the _cause_ of it."

Goten quickly shook his head, eyes getting wide. "You haven't done a _thing_ wrong. It's not your fault that some people are idiots, Bra–" he coughed, to cover it up. "_Ubuu_. It's not your fault.

"Seriously, if you love her then _tell_ her this. Don't let her shut you out. Fight for her until her beautiful blue eyes shine the way the used to. Fight until she can't turn you away and she _has_ to forgive you for being an idiot for years. Fight because you want to hold her in your arms, and you want to be able to make her smile, and you want to keep her for always.

"Don't let her scramble off to New York and other places without telling you where she's going, or when she coming back, _again_. Just–"

"_Goten_," Ubuu interrupted, looking highly amused. "Just tell Bra you love her and save us all the trouble."

That was the first time Ubuu had ever seen Goten blush from the tip of his head to the bottom of his neck. He made a mental note to remind Goten as often as possible, so it wouldn't be the last.

"And thanks for the advice anyway."

_To be continued..._

**sidenote:** This is seriously un-edited. So if you see something really stupid, forgive me.


	21. Fighting Back

Rainwater  
Chapter 20: Fighting Back   
Rating: R for sexual situations and suggestions, adult topics and language.  
_WitchyPrincess_

_Fighting Back_

_I guess there comes a point where you have to take responsibility for your own actions. There comes a moment when you can't help but blame yourself because, ultimately, you're the one that you have to live with the longest. _

_So, I figure it's like this: in the end, you can forgive anyone of anything they've ever done to you if you can forgive yourself first. Because forgiving yourself requires loving yourself and it means you'll never hurt yourself again._

_Like the saying goes: shame on you if you fooled me once; shame on me if you fooled me twice. _

_All you have to do is promise to be good to yourself and then nothing anyone else ever does to you matters. They won't be able to bring you down, hold you back, if you don't let them. No one can do anything to you, take anything from you, if you don't let them. They can say what they want and do what they want but ultimately it's you that holds the key. If you don't relinquish it, they have no power over you._

_Now that I know I'll never disappoint myself, I have nothing else to fear._

_–Pan Son  
_#######

He wasn't sure which emotion was stronger, the poignant grief of having lost someone he just realized he loved, the stinging betrayal of having been deceived by his two best friends, or the burning anger that coursed through his soul and stung the insides of his body at the thought of those two best friends. The anger won; all the other feelings could wait to be dealt with when there was an appropriate time. Now was not that time.

His jaw clenched as he waited for the door to be opened, eyes narrowed in barely controlled disgust. He couldn't wait until Trunks appeared at the door, he wasn't even sure if he'd bother with a hello. He was just going to take him out back and ring his neck. That was the plan.

Until he saw her.

Ethereal. No other word could even touch her perfection. He wasn't sure when his feelings became so strong and undeniable, wasn't positive when he realized how absolutely wonderful she was, but clearly he had _not_ felt this way about her the last time he saw her. When she was throwing him out of her house.

And then he remembered what a screw-up he was and that she was trying to avoid him. That and he was staring at her as if she were some kind of fallen angel while she had asked him a question–that he hadn't heard–and was waiting for a response. He had to get a grip over himself. But he couldn't help it, she did look like a fallen angel and he didn't want anything more than to fold her in his arms and never let her go.

There were bags under her eyes that he felt reasonably guilty for. Her blue orbs were definitely darker and more cynical than he ever remembered seeing them, her body more fragile, face more pale. But he couldn't ever remember a time when she was more beautiful than at this moment; this moment where he was seeing her for the first time.

Her scowl snapped him out of his trance.

"_What_?" Her tone was exasperated and her eyes were impatient.

"I don't suppose you want to talk to me?" She glowered, he sighed before his shoulders drooped dramatically. "I thought not." She started to shut the door but he put his hand out to stop her. "I'm actually here to see Trunks."

Her glare, if possible, got more intense. "Goten, you,"

"_You_ said you didn't want to talk to me. You had your chance. Please go get your brother." His tone was clipped because he knew she was about to defend her brother and he didn't want to hear it. He _couldn't_ hear it. He wanted to hurt Trunks and he refused to let her talk him out of it. He was afraid that if she asked him, that if she pulled that pleading look on him, he would crack. And he couldn't let himself do that so the easiest way to ensure she didn't was to anger her. That way she would do her best to get away from him as soon as possible.

Apparently this was too important to her to let him anger her away from her intent. "No." She stated firmly, going to shut the door again.

"I mean it, Bra, go get your brother or I'll get him for you."

"_No_. You are not going to do anything to Trunks, Goten. We already went through this the first time, didn't we? Pan makes her own decisions. You can't punish Trunks, solely, for a mistake they both made. It wouldn't be right."

"Bra, I–"

"Goten–"

"Bra," Bra frowned. She had been watching Goten and his mouth hadn't moved. A hand came to rest on her shoulder and she turned slowly, feeling angry with herself for not realizing Trunks was close. She should have just shut the door in Goten's face and been done with it. Now there was no avoiding this.

"What Trunks?" She asked softly, still trying to shut Goten out of the conversation by closing the door, as she turned to face him. Trunks' hand steadied the door as he gave her a stern expression.

"It's okay, I can handle this." There was a fire in his eyes that danced across her shoulders and down her back in shivers. She had never seen him look this decided about something in his life; she wasn't sure if he wanted to fight Goten or if he wanted Goten to fight him but, either way, they were clearly going to fight.

She wanted to protest, her heart screamed it, her mind hollered it, but her mouth said nothing. She knew the outcome of trying to talk either of them out of this: it wouldn't work. Instead she turned on her heel, diva-fashion, and marched out of both of their sights.

#######

She had started with her clothes. Every single flannel shirt, baggy pair of sweat pants, and ratty looking t-shirt found its way into the huge black garbage she had draped over her shoulder like Santa-Claus. The long shirts, loose jeans, and figure-less gi's, however, stayed where they were. She then preceded to fill the nearly bare closet with more appealing, albeit definitely not sexy, clothing.

Something that said she cared about herself.

Then she moved on to her room. She replaced the dark curtains and foreboding designs with brighter, lighter colors. Whites and warm coffee colors that accentuated her personality and not her woes. Smiling, she pushed the curtains open and yanked up the blinds, allowing the light to penetrate her room and scatter the shadows to the far reaches of her apartment.

No darkness, no secrets; not anymore.

Her bathroom came next. This was the tricky part. The counters were nearly bare, filled with nothing but a brush, comb, shampoo, and the regular necessities for morning preparation: a tooth brush, tooth paste, face cream, and soap. There was no make-up, she didn't wear make-up and she doubted she ever would. Maybe a light dash every now and then but never more. She didn't really know what to do with this room, it was hers, solely and completely, so she didn't do anything. She only brought nicer towels and a more expensive brand of toilet paper. That was bound to make her feel better, right?

Something that said she deserved a little pampering every now and then, and wasn't opposed to it at all.

Her apartment received a whole new theme, by the time she was finished it looked like it belonged to a successful woman in her prime-twenties. Not the brooding abode of a teenager. She packed up every picture of Brandon, the boss that she caught cheating with another co-worker, and threw his "box" in her closet. Then she pulled out Trunks' "box"–one she had packed up nearly five years ago, now, and hidden away as if he no longer existed, erasing him from her life–and filled the mantle of her fireplace with pictures of her, Trunks, and a child-Goku in space.

Her apartment had no room for regrets and neither did her heart.

Finally, it was time to work on her. She wasn't the same Pan that had been a broken, heaving mess a few weeks ago. She was someone completely different, grown up, and she wanted her outward appearance to reflect that.

She was smart, and strong, and independent. She was Son, Pan: strongest female Saiyan, grand-daughter of Goku and daughter of Gohan, two of the strongest men on alive, and a woman. She was a woman.

#######

Trunks wasn't sure which one of them threw the first punch, he couldn't remember anything past the look on Bra's face as he rocked her to sleep, broken in his arms. He couldn't get past the part where he wanted to pulverize Goten for the suffering of his sister, to think about the reason why Goten should want to pulverize him. All that he knew was that he was swinging and Goten was swinging back.

They were both throwing punches, moving with fierceness across his backyard, at approximately the same speed, neither one of them actually landing anything on the other. Occasionally their fists would brush each other, their knuckles slamming into each other with a cracking force, but more than not their rough intentions landed on air and got carried away by the wind.

Goten attempted a round kick that Trunks challenged with an uppercut, both of them slamming the other in the jaw, their necks snapping back with the sickening thump of bone knocking bone. Goten powered up, his dark hair turning a flowing golden, and clamped his hands together as if in prayer before slamming them into Trunks' neck and sending him flying swiftly to the ground.

Trunks slowed himself in the air, powering up to match Goten's level, eyes changing from a an ocean of anger to frozen ice. He looked up at the waiting Goten and smirked; the boy followed with a smug look of his own as he flew down to meet Trunks half-way.

Their movements became less fierce, more practiced and eased as they became more comfortable with each other. Trunks swung, Goten ducked and swung a kick, Trunks jumped and shot an energy beam. Goten was already coming behind Trunks and Trunks was already moving to the side to avoid the body slam Goten had aimed at him. They threw a round of punches, both of them silently counting the other: one, two, three, four. Up, down, right, down, Trunks. Up, down, left, down, Goten.

Neither of them could hit the other suddenly, seeming to slow their movements, seeming to lose sight of why they were fighting, they became immersed only in the fact that they sparring again. In a dance that only old friends could know, they moved around and around each other, swinging, kicking, throwing ki blasts, screaming, and never hitting the other.

They both powered up again. Trunks' eyes landed on Goten's as they paused, breathing hard. Suddenly, they weren't almost forty-year-old-men fighting because they had screwed up their lives, and they weren't rivals at the end of different spectrums, suddenly, they were children again. Trunks was seven, Goten was six, and they were arguing over which of them deserved to win the wold tournament.

Trunks was grinning lopsidedly and telling Goten not to be mad at him for winning; promising that Goten could pick out anyone of his toys if he were forgiven. Goten was already moving on to which toy he was going to pick and the fight had been all but forgotten.

Suddenly, they were both smiling slightly, landing on the grass of Trunks' back yard. There was an awkward moment after they had both powered down, where both men looked at each as if wondering what came next. Goten moved in and so did Trunks, as if to embrace, and then remembered how old they were and _who_ they were. More importantly, what gender.

Guys didn't _hug_ other guys. Goten settled for clapping him on the back roughly and giving him a goofy Son grin before turning serious again. Trunks returned the favor and then they settled back into their previous awkwardness, both of them having realized that they were very angry with the other. Goten glared first, Trunks having finally realized why it was that Goten was so pissed at him. Then Bra flashed in his mind and he returned the glare full force.

"We're not going to settle things this way," Goten ventured, pointing between him and Trunks to silently say 'fighting'.

"Obviously." Trunks replied sarcastically, crossing his arms.

"But we've got to settle it." He stated firmly.

"Once again with the obvious."

"Shut-up before I lodge my foot right up your-"

"I'm not exactly happy with you either Goten, so give it your best shot." Both of them tensed up again, staring each other down, daring each other to make a move. Their gazes locked, neither of them blinking, barely breathing. It was a dominance game, clearly, and neither of them were going to give any headway.

Then Trunks remembered Pan's face when she walked out of his room. Bra's shuddering, shaking body was pushed in the back of his mind as he remembered brushing the tears off Pan's cheeks and who had caused those tears.

And Goten remembered Bra's angry stare in his direction, her indifferent face when she answered the door and saw him there, the pain he saw in the hallows of her eyes. Both of them gave at the same time.

When their eyes crept up to each other's again, both sets of them were alight with humiliation and shame. Clearly humbled, Goten responded with a gentle,

"Don't break her heart again." That came out more pleading than warning.

Trunks nodded agreeably, feeling a guilty flush roar over his face. Sighing, he set the same pleading look to Goten and responded with, "And _she _won't survive another disappointment, Goten. If you're the reason she receives one, I'll never forgive you."

"I don't want to hurt her. Ever." Goten agreed, closing his eyes in pain. "I had no idea that Bra,...I mean, of the extent of it. If I had known..."

"Don't do that." Trunks admonished, sighing deeply. "Because, if you say that, then it gives you the upper-hand. I _knew_ I was killing Pan and I did it anyway. But I _don't _think I knew what I was doing...not really. If I'd known what it felt like–"

"Shut-up, Trunks. It wouldn't have changed a thing." Goten admonished lightly. "We all need to learn from our mistakes. Let's just..."

"Keep the past...in the past?" Trunks suggested hopefully. He hadn't realized, until right then, how important Goten's forgiveness was to him. He wouldn't be whole without his best friend's respect, no matter the fact that they hadn't exactly been close these last few years.

Paris had monopolized Goten's time and Capsule had stolen Trunks'. Somewhere, in the midst of all that, they just drifted apart. But now, Trunks realized, they were teetering at the edge, between real friendship again and indifference for the rest of their lives. Trunks felt his heart jump up in his chest as he prayed silently that they would find their balance again.

He hadn't been aware that he needed Goten this much, as odd as that thought sounded resounding through his head. But it was true. His life had been off track since Bra left and he'd just assumed that it was because he was missing his little sister. He had thought that his little sister, the girl he spent most of his life cherishing and protecting, was gone from him and he missed her more than he could compensate for.

Only, he realized now, it wasn't just Bra he missed. When Bra left his life, so did Goten. And so did Pan. Goten had immersed himself in the woman that he proclaimed to love with all his heart and Pan he had simply pushed away. Without them, life seemed empty at best. Goten and Pan, he finally admitted, had been his best friends. And he had lost them at the same time that he lost the first and only true-love of his life: his sister.

Now he was on the verge of losing them all again. He wouldn't survive the fallout this time, the thought scared him senseless. This time, he wouldn't lose them on accident or because of some small mistake, this time he would lose them because he was stupid. He was stupid, callous, and careless. How would he ever find the strength to forgive himself? How would _they_ ever find the strength to forgive him?

He didn't expect Pan to forgive him, but he prayed that he wouldn't lose Goten over that same mistake as well. And then there was Bra, who could very easily hate him for the fact that he had been very inattentive to her feelings, completely ignorant to the fact that she was losing all of her hope. He hadn't helped her and he was supposed to.

If he couldn't protect his little sister, who could he protect? He couldn't even protect himself, in the end. The thought alarmed him. He had to find some way, if only in small part, to fix this. He had to redeem the part of himself that he'd lost. Where had he gotten the impression that he could do what he'd done? Where had he forgotten about morals and decided to throw everything to the wind?

Why hadn't he stopped himself? Or, more importantly, why hadn't someone _else_ stopped him?

"Exactly," Goten finally agreed, a wary look still in his eyes. "No condemnation." Trunks exhaled a silent breath of relief.

#######

Pan felt new; a completely different person. She had a shine in her eyes that hadn't been there before, a brighter color that circulated from her body all the way through her soul. There was a smile on her face that drifted from the inside of her all the way to the outside. Her body felt lighter, stronger, and she felt rejuvenated.

The phone call from Bra had come unexpected but not un-welcomed. She hadn't even hesitated on responding positively to the girl's inquiry about training. She was glad that Bra had decided to take up the fighting again; she had been afraid that she would give it up just because of ...certain circumstances.

She never had found out what exactly happened between Goten, Paris, and Bra. She just knew that Goten wasn't getting married to Paris and that was all. There hadn't been further details beyond that point and Goten "didn't want to talk about it." And, really, Pan didn't blame him or pressure him because she hadn't wanted to talk about anything that happened between her and Trunks.

And he had asked.

He had only had one opportunity to talk to her about the situation and that had only been because she hadn't known that he knew about her and Trunks. Apparently, he found out the same night that he and Paris ended things, which just happened to be the same night she and Trunks had their last...encounter.

If she had been calmer that _one_ night, her uncle might never have found out about it at all. But, she shook the notion off, silently chastising herself, she wasn't keeping those kinds of secrets anymore. And she wasn't thinking back, regretting anything. Life is what it is, she reminded herself, and what's done is already done. There were a million different phrases that summarized exactly that and it wasn't for no reason. It was obviously the best advice that she could give herself.

If it was over, let it go. And she had. She had been doing fairly well with this new her; rarely had she fallen back to the old habit of thinking about what she could have changed, or wishing things were different then what they were. She was accepting herself for what she was, her situation for the way it was, and she was accepting everything that happened, exactly how it happened.

Of course, she wasn't perfectly adjusted but she managed improve more each day. There were some days where she barely thought negatively of Trunks at all. Days where she only put-down herself once or twice, and that was saying something. Her every breathing, moving moment, before the new her, had been filled with hate and disgust towards herself. Not anymore.

She walked up to Capsule without hesitation, only giving a slight pondering thought to what would happen if she were to run into Trunks. It would be awkward, she knew, because there were still unresolved issues with him that needed to be dealt with but, at the same time, it would be slightly liberating for her. In a sense, she wanted to see him just to discover how she would react to it. She needed to know where was on the emotional roller-coaster of loving Trunks Briefs. On the other hand, she wasn't sure if she was ready.

Bra's answering the door the second she got there made it clear that Pan wouldn't have to ponder in that line of thought anymore. By the look on the young girl's face, it was plainly clear that either she or Trunks himself was making sure they didn't cross paths. Pan smiled at the wary expression on her face that quickly melted to shocked confusion.

"Pan?" Bra questioned, sounding astonished. Pan quirked an eyebrow in response.

"You cut your hair...off..."

She could see the panic in Bra's face as the older girl stared. An awed sort-of curiosity, and she could nearly read her thoughts. Pan almost laughed out loud as she watched Bra's face. "No," Pan started, before Bra could lay into her. "I haven't lost my mind. No, I'm not having a pre-mid-life crisis. And, yes, I _am_ okay. This doesn't have anything to do, before you ask, with your brother or what happened between us. I did this for me, Bra."

Then Pan let out a mirthful laugh and shook her head because Bra was still standing, shocked, with her mouth open. "And I didn't cut it _off_," Pan corrected. "I just cut it a little above my chin."

Pan was wearing orange training pants and a white wife-beater. Her hair was styled in a cut that was longer in the front than back, stopping at her chin in the front and slanting up in a 'v' in back. In her head, holding her hair back, was that old, orange bandana. Clearly, something had changed but it wasn't her hair.

"Well," Bra recovered quickly, moving aside so Pan could come in. "I think it looks better that way, actually." And truthfully, Bra did. She really did. Of course, it could have just been the radiant smile on Pan's face that had Bra thinking that. The same smile that had just had her fumbling for words to explain what she was thinking about Pan.

"Anyway, let's go get some training done." Bra gave her own breath-taking smile, feeling that she could give as well as she could get.

She had been feeling better these days as well. She hadn't seen Goten since his fight with her brother, and she hadn't stayed around to watch that play out. But Trunks had come back in a better mood, which suggests that all went well. And, in the end, that was all that mattered.

After all, she couldn't miss something she had never had. And, Goten, she had never had. So, if Pan could be this energetic and happy after her ordeal with Trunks–whom she could have had, did have, and still could have–then certainly Bra could at least find a small smile after the whole Goten ordeal. Especially because she could literally _feel_ the good aura around Pan and knew that the girl wasn't putting on airs just so everyone thought she was recovering and she really wasn't.

If Pan could be genuinely happy after everything, then Bra could be too. She had a fighter spirit and this she was going to fight with all her being.

#######

Vegita grunted as his woman watched the girls head out into the GR and then shift her eyes from them to ceiling, where his oldest brat's room was, in silent thought. She was unhappy, clearly, with the way things were turning out. He had known she would be, had thought of talking her out of it multiple times without succumbing to the desire, and still had to fight the urge to gloat about having told her so.

He believed things would work themselves out in due time, knew about Saiyans and their possessiveness issues, and he also knew his children. Even the ones not directly related to him by blood. They were going to find a way to be happy, no matter what, but that didn't change the fact that now he had two unhappy Saiyans and an unhappy woman, because of them, living in his house.

Bulma sighed and came to the kitchen table, taking a seat opposite Vegita. He didn't look up from his food as she sat down, but she let her eyes bore into him until he grunted and dropped his chop-sticks.

"What?" He asked lightly, tone menacing. No one interrupted his eating. Unless, of course, you were Bulma and you weren't happy with something.

"What are we going to do?" She questioned without hesitation, unconcerned with his tone. He glared but didn't ignore her question–though he wanted to.

"Nothing. They got themselves into their messes, they'll get themselves out."

"But Veg–" his grunt cut her off.

"No buts, woman, they'll get themselves out." He started eating again but, after another few moments, he couldn't hold it in anymore. "You still think you did the right thing by pushing Trunks and Pan together? You still think she's going to forgive him?" He was taunting her, he knew, but he couldn't resist the urge to make her second-guess herself. Maybe this would teach the woman to mind her own business once and for all. Then, remembering who it was he was talking about, maybe not.

Bulma bit her lip for a long moment in contemplation, looking out the window at the memory of her daughter and the girl in question going towards the GR. The girl who looked nothing like the person she had been no less than a week or so ago. Finally, she sighed and met Vegita's eyes. "I just...don't know. I don't know anything anymore."

Her answer satisfied the part of him that made her want to admit she didn't know it all. That woman all thought she had all the answers, it was nice to get her at a point where she admitted she didn't have any. Then again, it was also disheartening; though he'd never admit it to anyone, he loved the way she took initiative and handled things anyway she knew how. Secretly, he didn't want that to die.

Sighing, he pushed his food away and lightly brushed his hand against hers before looking her in the eyes. "They'll be okay." He told her earnestly, watching her eyes light with the hope he was so used to seeing in those blue orbs of hers. "I promise."

Vegita never made promises he couldn't keep.

#######

She had taken nearly a month's leave of absence from work and felt incredibly guilty about it. Even though the vindictive part of her said that even if Trunks wanted to, he couldn't say anything to her and he deserved what he got, the other parts of her felt horrible waves of conscience washing over her body. She should have come back sooner.

Everyone in her part of the office was eyeing her curiously, each of them asking her where she'd been with their looks. She could hear the questions shooting off in their heads as if they were asking them out loud. She could practically recall the rumors they had spread about her, even though she hadn't heard them. She knew what she would have said about someone being gone for so long and then coming back to work as if nothing were different; especially if that someone were a person the boss seemed to be especially mean to.

They could think a million things about her but she knew the truth; she thought stubbornly, proudly, with her head held high. In the end, they didn't matter. Only she mattered. She walked past them all without wavering in her smile or faltering in her step, right into her office even though her heart was pounding a million times a minute.

She should have come back sooner.

The thought persisted even though she knew that this was a job that she hadn't even wanted in the first place. She had been blackmailed into it. So why did she care what she should and shouldn't have done for a job she didn't even want?

She knew why. It was the responsibility of the matter. Whether she wanted the job or not, it was her job, she had signed a contract, and she hadn't been holding up her end of the bargain. But, more than that, she had left Trunks without an explanation as to when she was coming back, or even if she was coming back, and she felt guilty.

She had left Trunks.

And she missed him. She hated admitting it, she hated thinking about it, but she honestly missed him. She wanted to see his face. She wanted to know if her heart would swell or wither. Would she be affected at all? Had she removed him from her heart?

She hadn't seen him in nearly a month. She was shaking with anticipation and yet she wasn't sure if she wanted to run into him at all. Out of sight, out of mind. Maybe her life would be better if she didn't run into him at all. Ever again.

Even though Pan knew that was impossible, she still had the thought. She had to see him sometime, she knew, even if only to explain how she felt. To finally get some closure.

She walked over to her desk and looked down at it; it was undisturbed except for a brown folder that sat on top of some papers she had been working on. Apparently, no one had been doing her job while she was out- which was odd because there were a couple people under her position that usually took over what she couldn't do.

Shrugging, she picked up the folder and sat down, flipping through the paperwork with curiosity. A few seconds later, after realizing what it was she was reading, her hands froze and her entire body tensed up. She couldn't believe this was happening. She couldn't believe that after all of that, he was still finding a way to hurt her.

Her hands clinched around the papers she was holding, crinkling them with vengeance. Her lips curled as she tore the papers apart, refusing to sign them. He wasn't going to do that to her. He wasn't going to get the best of her. Not this time, she would show him.

It looked like she was going to see him a lot sooner than she thought.

How dare he _fire_ her? She _was not_ going to get fired, even if she hadn't wanted this job in the first place. It was the principle, the pride, of the matter. This was her job and, damn it all, it would still be her job tomorrow. She wouldn't let him take the coward's way out. Not this time.

_To be continued..._

**sidenote:** I'm so sorry guys. I _tried_ to edit this one, I really did, but I just couldn't make myself read it. I got half-way through and then my attention went wandering again. I have too much to do today. So I just decided to update and forget it. Consequently, this chapter really is un-edited. I haven't even re-read it. . (When I said, last chapter, that it was seriously un-edited, that meant that I had only re-read it and I hadn't edited it. Usually I edit my chapters three times, twice before I upload it and then once after.)

Anyway, this is **_IMPORTANT_** so please read it: I'm going on vacation in August. August 1st through the 8th, and on August 9th we go back to school (I'm going to be a senior, yay!). Why does this matter to you? Well, since I probably won't have regular internet access, **I will not be updating** until after I get back. I'm so sorry. (That's why I added that last paragraph, so it wouldn't be a cliffhanger, but I seriously considered just leaving it off.) I'll try and get something out before I leave, but I doubt I'll be able to.

Somehow, I think you'll live.


	22. Consequences

Rainwater  
Chapter 21: Consequences  
Rating: R for sexual situations and suggestions, adult topics and language.  
_WitchyPrincess_

_Consequences_

_I've heard it told that what goes up comes down again. I believe it's said that what went around comes back again. The Boomerang Affect. Karma. But I don't think I've actually believed it until this moment. _

_This minute in time that's frozen forever in shock and natural realization. What you give, you get back ten-fold. It's no myth, no legend, no exaggeration. You pay for your mistakes in the end. I wish now that I had believed in confessions and repentance and forgiveness before all of this happened. _

_I know I would have begged for it if I had known the fire would be so hot._

_–Marron Chestnut

* * *

_

She stormed into the office without much opposition; people averted their eyes from her as if it were painful to look. And it probably was, she was wearing a scowl the size of all of Europe, but Pan knew it was more than just that. They were guilty. Each and every single one of them.

They all knew something was up and they knew that, somehow, it was unfair. And, yet, none of them were going to do a thing to stop it. If Trunks asked, Pan knew, the security guards would escort her out of there. She wasn't going to let that happen, however. She wasn't a quarter-Saiyan for nothing. This time she was fighting her battle and it wasn't going to be pretty.

She had an inkling that it was going to be messy for both of them.

She threw his office door open and walked right up to his desk, sweeping a few papers off and snatching the phone out of his hand. His mouth dropped open as he looked up at her, an emotion that she didn't care to identify flashing through his eyes before she registered the shock, and then his eyes went wide with confusion and horror.

"Mr. Briefs will have to call you back," she stated curtly, before slamming the phone back on the hook. Her hand found her hip as her eyes narrowed, an award-winning glare on her face.

He lifted his eyebrows and reclined back in his chair. "Angry?" He questioned easily, tone light despite the darkness in his eyes.

"Boiling," she corrected.

His eyes danced in askance. She didn't respond to his nonverbal play, it was too close to something she'd rather not remember, her stomach dropping at the very thought. If he wanted to know, he'd have to ask.

"All right," he conceded, as if reading her thoughts. "What's wrong?"

"Who died and made you Dende?" She fired off the second after the words left his lips. His brow furrowed.

"Care to elaborate at all?" He tested, hope clear in his tone. Her narrowed eyes told him the answer to that question. "All right then," He gave, nodding his head and straightening in the chair. "No one did. I'm not guardian of the world."

"Good, I'm glad you acknowledged that." She provided, taking a seat in front of his desk with distinct authority surrounding her.

"I take it there's more to this conversation," he stated dryly, trying to keep his voice level.

She knew the turmoil in her eyes was clear when he adjusted his vision, averting his eyes away from her. There was guilt in that avoidance and that was all she needed right now. He was not going to do this to her, he was mistaken if he thought she wasn't going to fight it.

"You must have thought that I was the same person that walked out of your house without a word, like a coward. You must have thought that I'm the very same girl that let you berate her, defeat her, destroy her as if she didn't matter. But you're wrong. I'm not that girl, Trunks, and I'm not going to let you hurt me again." She told him sternly, leaning close to his desk and resting her elbows on the edge of it.

His eyes shot back to hers in a hurry, disbelief, panic, and..._hurt_ in them as he stared. What on earth did he have to look so pitiful for? "You still think I want to hurt you?" He asked incredulously, voice rising from the intensity of his question. Clearly, this meant a lot to him.

But he didn't have the right. He didn't have the right to make her feel guilty about questioning his motives. He didn't have the right to look like he had never done anything questionable to her. For the last five years he had done nothing but hurt her even though, for four of them, she hardly even saw him. It wasn't okay. It just...wasn't.

"Don't speak to me like that." She commanded roughly, eyes dark and voice threatening. "You're in no position."

He stood up sharply, eyes lighting with a passion she had never seen in them before. He marched around his desk and stood right in front of her, leaning over so that their faces were only an inch apart. His eyes bore into hers, reading her soul. She felt distinctly uncomfortable and tried not to shift positions, she knew this was a silent challenge of sorts. He was sizing her up and she wasn't going to lose this one. She had lost enough to him.

"What's this really about, Pan?" He asked softly, his voice just as menacing as the looks she was shooting him.

"You fired me, Trunks!" She yelled, flinging her hands in the air and pushing him back roughly. In a quick motion, she was standing up, arms crossed, and looking up at him with fire. "How _dare_you fire me?" She half-questioned, half-challenged.

He sighed, brow furrowing as he moved back and bumped into his desk. Smoothly recovering, he sat atop the desk and looked at her curiously, tilting his head to the side.

"Is that what this is about?" He asked after a tense moment of silence between them.

She felt lost, like she had just stepped out of a pool or bathtub. That swerving feeling that accompanied having sat in the water for far too long. Her equilibrium was thrown off and she swerved as if she might faint. Recovering her balance, she retook her seat, replacing the menace on her face.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asked, not liking how light and curious his tone was. What had he thought this was about? Did he not even realize the insult he was throwing her way? Did he think she wouldn't care that he was firing her? Did he think it was all right, she wondered incredulously.

This couldn't really be happening to her, could it?

"I mean, Pan, that I had no idea you'd be upset about me firing you." He answered honestly, having the nerve to keep his tone light and even. She couldn't help but glare. "I mean, I thought you _wanted_ to get out of this job. But if my firing you is the problem then consider it withdrawn. Feel free to quit anytime you'd like."

Her mouth went dry as she tried to regain her temper. He hadn't just said that to her. He wasn't just brushing this off, he wasn't going to treat her like this. It wasn't all right for him to be brushing her off as if she didn't even matter.

She had thought...

Well, it didn't matter what she thought. Clearly, she hadn't been thinking correctly. She hadn't been a good judge of character back then, so nothing that she had thought mattered now. It was all irrelevant now. She didn't matter to him, obviously, she had never mattered to him. That didn't mean, however, that she would let him brush her off like this.

Sucking her teeth, she sat back in her chair and looked up at him with contempt. "You're kidding me, right?"

"Why would I be joking with you, Pan? This is hardly a joking matter. And, honestly, I didn't mean to offend you so would you stop looking at me as though you just pulled trash from your shoe and it's stuck to my forehead?"

"Actually, it was more like you _were_ the trash I pulled off my shoe. And, no, I will not. You can't treat me like this."

He drew in a confused breath. "What are you talking about, Pan? _How_ am I treating you?" He sounded exasperated.

She knew the feeling. Just being in the same room with him was play havoc with her senses. She was exasperated just looking at him because it was hard to tell her heart that he didn't matter anymore. That organ still thought he did, as was obvious by the rapid beating that wouldn't slow despite her attempts to calm her pulse. And it wasn't because she was so angry with him at the moment, either.

"Like I'm worthless. I'm not worthless, Trunks Briefs, and it's time you take notice." She commanded seriously, her tone threatening.

He looked completely shocked. This only seemed to add injury to insult.

"Is that what you think I think of you," he questioned before she could get up and angrily storm out of his office. He didn't want her to get the wrong impression of his expression. He didn't think she was worthless, quite the opposite, in fact.

"What am I supposed to think that you think of me?" She snapped back. "You so much as told me so five years ago. And, since you've come back into my life, you've done nothing but prove it through actions. After that whole hotel fiasco in the Carribean, you flat out told me I was nothing. You've used me, mistreated me, and talked about me every chance you got.

"You hurt me just because you felt like it and you knew I was in love with you. Am in love with you," she added, for the sake of being completely honest. "You disgraced me in front of my coworkers, devalued me in front of family and friends, and disrespected me in private. You were with me because you couldn't resist it, but you couldn't give into it either because that would be like letting me win. And you couldn't let me win because I'm worthless to you. I mean, I get that. I mean nothing to you. But that doesn't mean that I mean nothing.

"I'm a person, Trunks, with feelings and a soul. I'm someone that has finally learned how to love herself and I'm not going to let you take advantage of me anymore. In anyway. And, if you think that I haven't changed since the last time you saw me, you are sadly mistaken. Just because you saw me at my weakest moment doesn't mean that you have the liberty to treat me any way you want to.

"I don't appreciate it and I won't tolerate it anymore. And I'll work where I want to work, for however long I want to work there. Currently, my job is here and you're not going to bully me out of it. I won't let you. You won't win with me anymore. You have no power here now, not over me."

He stood, shocked, unable to voice the reply that he so desperately wanted to give. She wasn't nothing. Inside he was screaming it, his heart was pounding the rhythm of confession but his voice went horse the moment he opened his mouth. And the dangerous look in her eyes made him snap it shut anyway. He swallowed instead, suddenly feeling very cold and misplaced.

She was everything to him and he had done that to her. There was no other that would treat him the way she did, value him the way she did, love him the way she did. And he had crushed her. Purposely broken her spirit and watched her fall apart. She was right in everything she said and he didn't deserve to defend himself. So, he said nothing.

"I just want to know why," she voiced, seeming to read his thoughts.

She wanted an explanation.

If she wanted one, he wasn't one to deny her. That didn't change the fact that he didn't _deserve_ to defend himself. He wasn't worth her time and he wanted to tell her that, but she deserved the closure, if nothing else. That entire thought put pause to his heart.

This meant that everything was over. This meant that he was letting her go, of his own free will. His own volition. His heart shuddered at the thought of it, sending waves of shivers through his entire system.

"Why?" She repeated raspily, her voice shaking slightly.

He still paused, mouth open in midair, for another brief moment to realize the severity of it all. Once he told her this, there was no taking it back. He only had one chance to explain something that he didn't even understand completely himself. And he knew, because of what she'd just told him, that he had to be as honest as possible. Until the very end. She had told him everything, truthfully, that she felt about how he treated her. And now he would have to tell her why. Without sugar-coating it at all.

He swallowed hard and looked at her honestly, kneeling down so that they were eye level, his hands resting lightly on the arms of her chair. He wanted this to feel intimate for the simple fact that he wanted her to be aware that he was telling her the complete truth.

"First of all, I didn't fire you because I wanted one last opportunity to stick it to you. I did it because you had a contract and I knew that you couldn't quit. I thought you wanted to be as far away from me as possible so I gave you an easy way out. A convenient way out.

"I thought you would want that. I thought you would appreciate it. Clearly, I was wrong. But, I promise Pan, I never wanted to hurt you. Not ever again. As for you meaning nothing to me: that's not true. It hasn't ever been true and it never will be true. It breaks my heart, literally, just to hear you say that. To know that you think it.

"I have never thought that of you. I know what I said at the Carribean, and I know that you believe that I believed it. I know what I said to you at that good-bye party for Bra and I know that you believe that I believed that too. But, if there was ever a time to be honest with you, now's that time.

"I've always loved you, in at least one way Pan. You were my other sister when you were younger and you were my best friend when you became older. But you were in love with me and I seriously didn't know how to deal with that. A simple "I'm not interested" never worked on you. I tried to let you down gently, I always tried to tell you nicely that I wasn't the one for you, but you didn't seem to take to hearing it the nice way. At that party, Pan–though it's no excuse–you just caught me at a bad time. I mean, I wasn't in a very good mood to begin with, there was something wrong with my sister, she was leaving Japan and she hadn't even shown up for her own party. I was stressed and really not in the mood to deal with you.

"I handled it wrong. I know that now. But when you're younger, when you're a guy with too many problems, you don't think about the consequences. You just...act."

"You said some horrible things to me, Trunks." She reproved when he stopped, not letting him shove it off so simply. There was more than that. He hadn't simply 'acted,' he had snapped. He had been vindictive and nasty. He had broken her heart. "You said I was self-involved and ugly, graceless and tomboyish, lewd and indelicate. You said I wasn't even a woman," she repeated, the pain clear in her voice. "You crushed me that night."

He breathed in deep, closing his eyes as the night rushed back to him. Had he said all those terrible things to her? To this goddess sitting before him? Had he called her _ugly_ and _lewd_?

"I guess 'tactless' is a bit of an understatement. Pan, you must know I didn't mean those things." He practically commanded, half-pleaded.

"Yes you did." She protested. "I saw it in your eyes, read in on your face. And the way you said it," she shivered. "Like you'd been thinking on it for years. You could have just told me when I was seventeen that I was wasting my time. You could have just said that I didn't stand a chance with you then, nicely, and avoided the whole mess."

There was regret in her eyes. "Pan," he swallowed the rest of that sentence, knowing it was unfair to say it. Knowing he shouldn't do that to her. Finally, he compensated with, "I didn't mean it. I mean, if I had, would we be here? In this situation?"

"You meant it _then_." She amended seriously.

"How can you believe that?"

"How can I not? You never even apologized."

"I'm trying to now." He acknowledged.

"You're doing a horrible job."

"I don't exactly know how to apologize. But, if you would let me continue, I think I can try."

"Please, by all means," she waved her hand, as if granting permission.

"When I said those things, I wasn't thinking clearly. I was angry and, being perfectly honest, I was confused. Pan, when you kissed me I..." He swallowed, thinking of her reaction when he admitted this. His stomach plummeted. "I lost myself in you," he closed his eyes so that he couldn't see her reaction.

"I lost myself. Who I was, where I was, what I was doing. And I wasn't supposed to feel that way about you. Not you. So I panicked." Finally, his eyes opened to gather the murder in her eyes. "And I'm so sorry. More than you could ever know."

"You tore apart my self-esteem, degraded my self-worth, and crushed my heart because you _panicked_?! And all you can say to me is you're..." She lost her sentence in her anger. He watched as she clenched her jaw and could nearly read her thoughts, as if they were plastered on her forehead. She was telling herself to calm down, in her head.

For a while, they sat with each other in heavy silence. Pan's breathing was labored and Trunks' was haggard, both of them afraid of what she would do. Then, finally, she breathed out a sigh of agitation and leaned back in the chair, so that she was farther away from him.

"Well, continue with the explanations. You haven't finished telling me why." She stated calmly. He was really worried about that.

"You aren't going to yell? You aren't going to hit me or storm out? Or cry?" He had watched his sister try to cry and fail for years. He wouldn't let this happen to Pan. She wasn't going to bury her pain like that. Not her.

"No, Trunks, I'm not going to yell. I'm not going to scream or leave or cry. I would have, if I were still that Other Pan, but I'm not. It's over, it's done with. There's no reason for me to throw a fit over a part of my life that has already been snatched from me. I can't change it, you can't change it, and no good will come over moping about it. I let that go a long time ago. I forgave you those words months upon months ago. When I gave you my heart back. Now, please, continue."

He swallowed hard again, not sure where to go from there.

"Well?" Pan asked, becoming more than a little impatient. "Why the hell did you abuse me the way you did? You took advantage of me, Trunks." She proclaimed, eyes lighting and bringing him back on topic.

"I know, and I didn't want to Pan. I honestly didn't, and I don't know why I did it. I just couldn't help myself. I couldn't..." He sucked in air, trying to put a word to it. "I tried, I truly tried, to stay away from you after I realized that I couldn't stop it. But I wasn't strong enough. And, when I called you to me, here in this office, I thought that maybe you would stop me.

"I _hoped_you would stop me. I paused for you to stop me but you never did. And I couldn't control it."

"But..." she searched roughly for words, her eyes detouring his own to find the truth. He wasn't lying. "You always made it so hard for me not to come back to you. You did it on purpose, I know you did." She declared adamantly.

"You're right," he nodded his agreement, shaking his head in shame as he moved his hands from the arms of the chair to her legs. His hands caressed her thighs absently as he searched for an explanation for his actions. "Once it started I just couldn't stand the thought of you leaving me.

"It was like a hole that burned inside me every time I thought of it," his hands slipped up to her waist and then back down in a gentle touch. He didn't notice her shiver. "I couldn't bear even _imagining_ you with someone else. It wasn't about wanting you then," he admitted. "It was about not wanting anyone else to have you.

"You were mine, even then, in the beginning."

"And later?" She asked, voice parched.

He leaned into her, resting his head on her legs as his hands came to rest on her sides comfortably. "You were always mine." He stated adamantly. "Never anyone else's."

"So, what, that justified you hurting me?" She asked softly, her voice losing its strength.

"I don't know how to explain that Pan. The best way I know how is to tell you that there were two of me, inside me. Both of them battling about you. There was the Day Me and the Night Me. Day Me cared about you as a friend and confidant and Night Me just wanted to sleep with you."

"You mean to tell me that you hurt me because you _cared_about me?"

"Well, yes and no," he acknowledge honestly. "Partly, I hurt you just to hurt you. That was typically Night Me who realized he cared about you much more than he should and wanted to hurt you because of it. But there was another me. Day Me, who didn't want you to get hurt anymore. That me tried to push you away in hopes that you'd leave for good because he knew that Night Me was stronger than him and we would never leave _you_ alone. You were ours."

"But if I walked away, it was different? So that justified you treating me like shit?"

"No, it doesn't justify anything. You asked why, I can only tell you the best way I know how." His voice was strained, painful.

"And now?" She asked, though he wasn't sure exactly what she meant.

"There's only one me now. There's no battle, there's no war. I became whole when..." he left the rest unsaid, again knowing it was unfair to say.

"I mean: would you sleep with me now? If I wanted you to?" Her voice was small, distant, as if she were walking away. He knew she wasn't because he had her in his arms but he lifted his head to see her face anyway.

Was she seriously asking him this? "I just told you. There's only one me and I don't think it's the right thing to do."

"So you wouldn't sleep with me? Even if I pressured you?"

His brow wrinkled. "Would you _want_ me to?" He asked with complete disbelief. She couldn't mean this. She swallowed and pushed him away, smiling distantly.

"Of course not. I mean, that part of us is over." She sucked in a breath as he stood up, watching her curiously. What was she getting at here?

"And...?" He prompted, waiting for more.

"_But_," she corrected. "That doesn't mean that _all_ of us is over. I mean, there's no reason that we can't be friends."

"Friends?" He asked incredulously. "We can't be friends," he was adamant.

"Why not?" She seemed completely put-out by his response. He rolled his eyes in disgust with himself; he was _still_ hurting her.

"Because I l-" He stopped, once _again_ about to say the thing that would be unfair to her. Would it always be this hard when he was around her? He swallowed the lump in his throat and decided that it would be best if he were just honest. He couldn't _not _tell her, clearly.

"I love you."

She watched the pain flit through his eyes as he told her that, the serious fear of how she would react, and finally understood his burden. He was just a boy, standing in front of a girl, telling her he loved her. Angry because he'd hurt her. Confused because she loved him back and there was nothing they could do about it.

There was an invisible wall around them that stopped either of them from moving towards the other. Stopped them from moving at all. Her breath caught in her throat as she finally understood the entire situation. In a hysterically crazy way, this was funny. They both loved each other and it was impossible for them to be together.

She couldn't be with him. She simply couldn't. But she could do one thing. "I forgive you." She stated softly, after what seemed like a century's pause. "I forgive you everything, Trunks."

Before he could respond, she stood up and walked to the door, turning back only once to finish with, "And we will be friends. You need that as much as I do. To heal."

"You can't forgive me," He called after her, forcing her to stop before she shut the door behind her. Her eyebrow quirked as she stepped back into his office hesitantly.

"And why not?" She challenged.

"Because I haven't forgiven myself. I don't know how." He admitted, clenching his jaw at her stubbornness.

"Well then," her eyes seemed to twinkle as she said this last part. "I'll just have to teach you how."

* * *

Pan smiled as she stepped into Capsule, looking around with interest. It was different entering this house now. It was a new experience for her. It had only been a couple of days since she'd told Trunks that she forgave him, since she promised to teach him how to forgive himself, and she hadn't really seen him since.

She felt eerily like he was avoiding her. And, strangely, she felt as if something was missing. She wasn't sure if it was because she hadn't seen him or if it was because of something else, but the thought unnerved her. Other than that, though, she was doing wonderfully.

Life was looking much better since she'd had her discussion with Trunks. Maybe finding out that he loved her had something to do with it. Maybe it was just finally knowing why he'd done the things he'd done. She wasn't sure which but, it was a liberating feeling.

Her evolving friendship with Bra only added icing to an already sweet cake. The girl made life something special and if Goten didn't know that then he was missing out on a lot. Pan made a mental note to have a conversation with her uncle the next time she saw him.

He was clearly insane if he didn't value Bra. That girl was wonderful and, coming from Pan, that was saying something. Bra and she had never really been on good terms. Things were different now. She would trust Bra with her right arm, and Pan used her right arm quite a lot.

She smiled to herself, brushing those thoughts aside. She was in a wonderful mood and she didn't want to spoil it with thoughts of blood and giving arms, even in a joking fashion.

The second Pan stepped into Bra's room, however, she knew immediately that something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Her good mood, she guessed, was about to fly out of the window.

* * *

Marron's hands were shaking so badly that she finally gave up trying to rest them on her knees and simply sat on them. She had been there, sitting on Bra's bedroom floor, for nearly an hour without opening her mouth. She had come in, laughed, cried, and fallen out onto the floor thirty minutes later. Then, she had simply rested limply on the floor for another fifteen to twenty minutes before finally getting up. And that was when she realized that her hands were not going to stop shaking.

Bra hadn't said anything after Marron took her position on the floor, though she was clearly worried. The younger girl's face had been puzzled when Marron first entered the room, concerned when the blonde went into hysterics, and then frightened when she simply became silently contemplative. Bra was probably as afraid as Marron and she didn't even know why she should be afraid. She had no reason to be.

Both of them had remained quiet, each wondering where to start with the other, while time ticked slowly by. That was, until they heard the creak of the door and Pan's radiantly happy voice calling out to Bra for recognition.

"It's time to train, lazy-bones, why aren't you already heading to the GR? Don't tell me you're not dress-" her sentence halted abruptly, the words mistakenly bumping into one another. The smile on her face curved downwards as she took in the state of the two women, sitting in the same room but worlds apart.

"Okay," Pan stated slowly, cautiously. There was clear confusion in her voice. "Who died and when did it happen?"

All three girls eyed each other suspiciously, but neither of them said a word to answer the question. Finally, Pan's joking "Well then, if no one died, who's pregnant?" filled the air and Marron burst into another fit of tears.

Bra and Pan looked at each other, their mouths dropping open in shock and disbelief. They weren't hearing what they thought they were hearing, were they? Both of them shook their heads at the same time, as if reading each other's minds, and went back to staring confusedly at Marron.

This wasn't serious. She had to explain.

Marron looked up at the two girls, noting the demanding heaviness that filled the atmosphere and radiated from their faces. Clearly, she wasn't getting out of this one without some long, insightful details.

Twenty minutes and plenty of crying, broken sobs, and angry outbursts later, Bra and Pan were finally up to date on what went on between Marron and Ubuu. Looking from one another, the message was clear, they didn't know which one to be sorrier for. It was true that Marron had just royally screwed up her life and taken Ubuu for the ride, but it was also true that she hadn't meant it nor had she known what she was doing when she did it.

Which lead both the girls to the same question: should Marron be forgiven? If they believed that Ubuu should forgive and forget, giving Marron another chance, then, surely, they would be hypocrites not to do the same thing. Their situations, if looked at from that point of view, were really no different. And saying that their friend deserved to be lonely and unhappy, that she deserved what she got, was pushing things a little farther than either girl was willing to go.

Pan had gained a sort-of trust for Marron, because the girl never threw her affair with Trunks around, and had learned to appreciate Marron for everything she was worth. Her good points and her flaws. Of course, actually seeing the real Marron these last couple of months and not some carbon-copy that put on shows of evil when Pan was around, simply to amuse herself, helped to carry their 'friendship' along.

They were still, obviously, on shaky ground but they trusted each other enough for Marron to tell Pan what horrible thing had just recently happened. Enough for Marron to, practically, bare her soul and pray for Pan not to be judgmental. And also enough for Pan to know that Marron was never going to degrade her about her past mistakes, so she didn't have to constantly be on her guard.

After all, it was easy to pursue a friendship with someone you've known your whole life, once you put your mind to it.

But even through the friendship, the comradery, that Pan had begun to feel towards the girl, there was a certain coldness that slithered through her as she looked at Marron now. Because it hadn't been until that moment that Pan realized what it was that was missing. Her stomach plummeted to the floor at the thought.

_To be continued..._

**New Update Schedule**: Since I'm back in school now and I'm taking five college courses in high-school (advanced placement), I won't have time to update on Wednesdays anymore. But, fear not, because the story is pretty close to an ending ... at least, I think so. Anyways, from now on, updates will be every Friday until the close of the story. Sorry about the inconvenience.

And: Dear Unknown,

Everyone is entitled to their own opinion and, if that's the way you feel then, there's nothing I can do about that. My works aren't for everyone and I'm sorry you feel that I am a liar and a freak but, if you dislike me and my writing so very much, the solution is simple: just stop reading my stories. I hope you find other fan-fiction that is more to your liking by other authors that don't offend you quite so much as me. And, as always, you were never, and never will be, forced to read my stories. Opinions are always valued when they're constructive, but if you can't say things in a nicer way than that (you know, like calling me a freak) do us all a favor and don't bother to reply. Have a wonderful day,

--WitchyPrincess


	23. The Details

Rainwater  
Chapter 22: The Details  
Rating: R for sexual situations and suggestions, adult topics and language.  
_WitchyPrincess___

_The Details_

_Like a child playing in a field of butterflies, running after fireflies, or trying to catch a falling star, I fell ploy to the unspoken promise. _

_I believed I could hold it, grasp it within my hands and keep it with me always. I believed I could control it. Forsaking consequences and logic, defying nature and every manmade rule, I believed I could grasp fire within my hands, between my curled fingers, and not get burned. Like trying to keep your hands clasped around falling beads of sand or slippery water, I thought I could hold on without losing a drop, missing a single grain._

_I was nothing but a moth to a flame in the end._

_–Bra Briefs_

* * *

He had been whistling the few moments before he emptied the girl's trash into one of the larger bags. The robots were broken again, trying to take over the household, and his mother had assigned him the duty of collecting the trash from the billion rooms in the ridiculously huge mansion that they called a home while she worked out the kinks. 

The chore wasn't really what caught the tune in his throat, though he did think he was a little old to still get household chores–he didn't complain because, technically, he was a little old to still be living with his mother. In his defense, it was legally his house now. The problem, however, was with what was in the trash.

It was a test. And it wasn't the kind on pencil and paper with right answers and a grade. No, this was a different test entirely and the answer couldn't be misconstrued because it was the digital kind. Problem was, it could only belong to one of three people and he was fairly certain that his sister could be taken off that list as well. That left a fifty-percent chance that...

His throat clenched in panic.

* * *

Bra pulled her hands up to her face and wiped the sweat off her brow, her blue eyes shimmering with a life that Pan had not seen there before. It seemed that the stronger her body got, the stronger her sense of self got as well. Pan could sense it, feel it throughout her, just by being around Bra. It was magnificent to watch someone undergo a transformation that you had just undergone yourself. Now she knew what it was like from the outside in. 

There was still an undeniable sadness about the girl, but her general outlook on life had improved greatly. That much was obvious.

Pan relaxed her body and watched as Bra's own body followed stance. She noted, with silent satisfaction, that the blue-haired girl didn't drop her defenses until she was sure that Pan wasn't able to attack her again. That meant that Bra was learning and it was all because of what Pan had taught her. A sense of pride surged through Pan at the thought, making her smile lightly at Bra while picking up her training bag and making her way out of the GR, Bra following close behind.

Both girls entered the house through the kitchen door, the conversation that they had been having about training technique dying on their lips as they took their first steps into the room. The boys–Trunks, Goten, and Ubuu–were sitting at the table, with their heads leaning towards the middle of it as if in deep conversation. All of their words, as well, died the second they heard the kitchen door open.

Each of them looked up, all five eyes connecting with each other one by one, each and every one of them experiencing some kind of awkward moment. Without a word, the three boys looked back towards each other and stood up from the table, clearing their throats nervously and mumbling their excuses.

Pan narrowed her eyes as she watched Trunks leave, clenching her fists slightly towards her sides. Neither her nor Bra said anything to each other for a few seconds, both still standing in shocked strangeness. Then Pan shifted her weight and looked over to Bra, wiping the sour expression off her face. She smiled slightly and shrugged her shoulders for the benefit of the other girl, knowing Bra would take Goten's leaving harder than Pan took Trunks'.

Because Trunks was leaving for an entirely different reason than Goten. Trunks was leaving because Pan had made him nervous with her talk of teaching him how to forgive himself and then her awkward behavior almost directly after she said it.

Pan had to admit, _she _had been avoiding Trunks for the last few days because of some recent events. Ever since Marron's heart to heart with the two girls, Pan had avoided Trunks with the same urgency that he was avoiding her. Needing to do _anything_ rather than actually see his face.

But now she realized that it was all just stupid. They both needed to talk to each other because eventually they were going to have to be friends again. Goten and Bra were, more than likely, going to work out their issues and start a relationship with each other. And then Ubuu and Marron, whether they wanted to or not, were going to be connected for the rest of their lives. Now that Pan was friends with both those girls and Trunks was friends with both the boys, they would have to be able to stay in the same room at some point in time.

But it wasn't only that; it wasn't for that reason that Pan wanted them to reconcile. She had meant what she said to Trunks that day, nearly two weeks ago, when they'd had that talk. She had honestly and truly forgiven him; she understood his heartbreak and she seriously wanted to do something–anything that she could–to help him. Not because she was stupid or naive but because she loved him and there was nothing she could do about it. Her heart truly went out to him. But, then again, maybe that _did_ make her stupid and naive.

In either case, she still wanted to help him out in any way she could. And that was the best way she could think of. Not to mention, she honestly missed him when he wasn't around and having his friendship was much better than not having anything at all.

So seeing him walk away from her as if they hadn't talked about things at all, truly bothered her. It probably would have hurt her feelings if he hadn't made an honest attempt to try and talk to her no more than three days ago and she completely blew him off. She had been too upset and nervous to see him then. But she was ready now and she thought it was time to go and tell him that. Clearly, he wasn't going to come to her again. He probably thought she'd changed her mind about the whole friendship thing but she hadn't.

Goten, on the other hand, hadn't had any communication at all with Bra. And Pan couldn't imagine being completely ignored, or completely ignoring, someone she cared so much about. Someone who hadn't even had the chance to screw up the relationship yet because it didn't exist. She understood that Bra was waiting for Goten to make the first move, that she was waiting for Goten to put up some kind of fight for her attentions, and Pan didn't really blame Bra for her maneuvers. But she also understood that her uncle didn't want to push himself into Bra's life if he wasn't what she wanted anymore, and he didn't think she wanted him anymore. How could he think she did when she always gave him the cold shoulder every time they crossed paths?

So, basically, they were in a dead-lock. Neither one of them were going to move and Pan really didn't know what she was going to do about them. She knew, though, that she had to do something. There was no reason for them to be apart when they both have finally learned what they mean to one another. It was silly and ridiculous.

Which led her to the Marron and Ubuu predicament. Seriously, at this point, it was just beyond stupid. And there was no one to blame for the entire mess. It would be easy to say everything was Marron's fault but then, you had to know Marron to understand. She wasn't the one that _Pan_ would blame for the situation at all. Pan would blame Ubuu.

Hell, Pan had _been_ an Ubuu. And, being an Ubuu, she knew that the boy had been aware of what Marron was capable of in relationships before he slept with her. Pan had certainly known with Trunks. And, just as Pan had with Trunks, he expected Marron to fall in love with him simply because he loved her. And when it didn't work out with her automatically, he lost his cool and became completely discouraged.

Now it seemed as though he wanted to talk to her but didn't know what to say. And she was just as lost for words as he was so there was no help in that department.

The only difference between Pan and Trunks and Marron and Ubuu was that Ubuu learned his lesson the first time whereas Pan had not. And then, of course, there was the fact that Marron actually did love Ubuu and simply hadn't told him. Which ultimately changed nothing if Ubuu felt used the way Pan had. He wouldn't be able to ever forget that. Except, Marron was pregnant and they were already tied to each other for the rest of their lives. So Pan knew that eventually Ubuu would give in.

"Are you hungry?" Bra's false happiness pulled Pan out of her world of thoughts, bringing attention to the slight rumble of Pan's stomach with the question. Pan nodded sheepishly and patted her stomach, almost protectively, butterflies filling her abdomen because of thoughts that she would rather keep to herself. Forever, if possible.

* * *

"Are you avoiding me?" 

He quirked an eyebrow, his customary response to questions he thought ridiculous or had obvious answers, before smiling slightly and looking over at the other two men in the room. He was either asking for permission to break the conversation they had been having before the girl interrupted or he was asking them to leave the room. Both stared back obstinately, but neither of them moved, so the girl assumed that he was silently apologizing for her rudeness.

"Are you avoiding me?" He countered, the smile not leaving his lips. His eyes said he knew something she didn't and she wondered what it was. "Because, if I'm not mistaken, I wasn't the one who made up the bogus excuse about extra work last week. I am your boss, you know. I didn't exactly believe that one, Pan."

There was the smirk she had been waiting for. She narrowed her eyes and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her to tell the boys, through her actions, that they were not to leave her and Trunks alone. Honestly, it was more because she was standing in his room, and she didn't want to be alone with him _in his room_, than it was that she didn't want to be alone with him.

"Well I'm not the one that got up and walked out of the room you had just entered without so much as a hello. Nor am I the one that turns around every time we cross paths. So, once again, are you avoiding me?" She challenged back, tone light and even. It was obvious that they weren't truly arguing, simply teasing one another.

The other two must have thought it odd because they began to glance back and forth between Pan and Trunks as if they had both grown two heads out of the blue.

"Darling, you wound me," Trunks over-exaggeratedly placed his hand over his heart, stepping back as if being shot. "I cherish every moment spent in your presence. Why would I ever avoid you?"

"Ha, ha," Pan mock laughed, unconsciously moving her hands up to hug her waist. All three sets of eyes dropped from her face to the hands encircling her abdomen, before coming back up again, curiously-strange expressions on their faces. It made her decidedly uncomfortable and she dropped her hands immediately.

"I think we need to talk," both she and Trunks offered at the same time, a more serious tone to each of their voices.

Ubuu and Goten got off their chairs, as if to leave, but Pan and Trunks stopped them before they could complete the action.

"No," Pan's eyes widened as she said it, while Trunks' hands went out in a halting motion. "We'll...uh..."

"Talk out there." Trunks pointed awkwardly to his door, his voice slightly uneven as he said it, eyes jumping from the boys to Pan before going back to the door.

"Right," Ubuu intoned, trying very hard not to roll his eyes.

"Fine." Goten shrugged a moment after, reseating himself after Ubuu did the same.

They all looked at each other for a moment longer, unspoken questions and information hanging thickly in the air between them. Finally, Pan moved towards the door and held it open for Trunks, as she was closest. This awoke his mind and his feet began to move in her direction unsurely.

It was very obvious that their conversation was going to be a strained one.

* * *

"Why are Goten and Ubuu here?" Pan shot off the second they were in a 'safe' room. They were in the game room, standing about three feet apart. The sexual tension between them was still hanging heavily in the room, like black drapes that blocked out the sun.

"We were talking." Trunks answered evasively, careful not to blink as he made the statement. She wasn't browbeating that information out of him, of that he was determined.

If they were going to talk about that subject, she was going to have to bring it up. He definitely wasn't going to be the one to say anything. Not about this, not this time.

Pan was in charge of this entire situation and she knew it. She had to know it because Trunks truly had no idea what to do or how to do it. He was losing his mind thinking about her, going half-insane just worrying what he should do and shouldn't do. What he should say and shouldn't say when he saw her.

It was easier just to avoid the questions, the topic, all together. And last week hadn't made things any easier. The only good thing that had happened last week was that Pan seemed to adapt his habit of avoiding, and began to dodge corners when she saw him. It made his job a whole lot easier to do. But then, that hadn't really been good because it left him feeling horrible about things.

That and it left him wondering _why_ she felt the need to avoid him so avidly. Made it seem as if there was something she was hiding, which only made him suspicious and reminded him of why he had thought last week horrible in the first place: the trash.

But if it had been her 'trash' in Bra's trash can, then surely she would have told him. Or, maybe, she was telling him now. He braced himself for the possibility, wondering what it would feel like after she'd said it. Imagining what his face would look like when he heard it.

He had to make sure not to make some kind of horrible face, as if this were bad news. It wasn't really. He just felt horrible about it because, once again, it meant he'd made a mistake. And she was left to deal with the consequences of it.

And, really, there was nothing he could do about it. If Pan were–he might as well just think it, after all, she was about to tell him she was–_pregnant_, then he couldn't really help her. He couldn't carry the child for her and he had an inkling that pregnancy was hard on Saiyan women. At the same time, though, she didn't have to deal with this alone.

He would be there for her every step of the way. Through every single craving and every single pain or cramp. She wouldn't be able to get him away if she paid him to leave. If she ran away even, he'd find her. She was pregnant so she was stuck with him now.

And that was what was bothering him, honestly. He was taking a secret pleasure out of the fact that he had her now. He had trapped her in a relationship with him that she clearly didn't want, because of his own negligent mistakes, and he was happy about it. That made him feel completely guilty but it didn't wipe away the joy that the thought of Pan having his child brought.

She was going to have his baby.

"What are you grinning for, Trunks?" She asked, a nip of annoyance in her voice as she crossed her arms.

He straightened his face immediately, cursing inwardly because of the blush that started at his nose and spread all over his face. "Nothing." He answered shortly, shaking his head and trying to push back the grin that wanted to spread across his face. She was going to have _his_ baby. "Was there something you had to tell me?" He prompted, finally feeling ready–anxious–to hear this news.

"No," his face dropped at her statement. "There was something I had to ask you." She continued, clarifying the situation for him.

He tried not to look confused and disappointed as he motioned for her to go on but he didn't think he achieved his goal because of the curious look she gave him.

Her brow wrinkled and she frowned at him. "What did you think I was going to say?" She asked, her voice alight as she questioned him.

"Nothing." He shook it off, pretending he didn't know what she was talking about at all. "I don't know what you want to talk about."

"Okay, then what do _you_ want to talk about?" She avoided asking the question that she had said she wanted to ask, seemingly nervous. He couldn't imagine what she had to be nervous about, he was the one that had no idea if he was going to be a father soon or not.

The thought came unbidden and unreasonably angry. He sighed, shaking it off as he looked at her. "I just wanted to know if you were serious about that friend idea?" He noted that his tone was accusatory as he asked her but couldn't do anything about it. He realized that he probably sounded as if he were telling her that she was being a lousy friend, and that hadn't been his intention at all. He just wanted to know why she wouldn't tell him something this important.

She had known for he-didn't-know-how-long and she hadn't felt the need to tell him yet. There was no logical reason why she should keep it to herself. Unless she were scared to tell him. Or she hated him so much that she couldn't even admit it to herself.

Dende, he prayed that wasn't the case.

"Trunks," she answered after a second because she had to regain herself. His tone had taken her off guard. "Why would I say something like that if I didn't mean it?"

"That isn't an answer, Pan. An answer is 'yes' or 'no.' And that wasn't it. But honestly, I wouldn't blame you if you hated me. It's okay to just say that and leave." He countered seriously, the concern and vulnerability clear in his expression.

Her face softened, a smile invading her lips. "Of course I meant it. In fact, that's what I came to talk to you about. Your first lesson in self-forgiveness: stop blaming yourself for everything. You got me?" She walked closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder as she said this next part, keeping her tone soft and compassionate. "I'm a big girl, Trunks, and I wouldn't say something to you that I didn't intend to follow through on. Especially not something that important. When I said that I forgave you, _I meant _that I forgave you. There's no need to worry over my sincerity, I promise."

Her eyes stared straight into his as she said this, making sure that he understood she meant everything that she said, without exception. They _were_ friends, whether he wanted to accept it or not. She wasn't going to let him run scared from this scenario. She needed him to maintain his calm because she needed him. If she lost him as a friend because of his own paranoia, she didn't know what she would do.

Trunks drew in a breath, looking back at her with the same intensity, before nodding. She had a feeling that he was expecting something from her; she felt like he was expecting her to say something, to make some kind-of announcement. She didn't really know what to tell him...

Oh, yeah. She had said that she had a question for him. "Oh, and I wanted to know if you and I could do something tonight. You know, like catch a movie or," she shrugged, looking up at him for any help that he could offer.

"Go dancing?" He suggested, not knowing where in the world the thought came from. His brow furrowed as he realized that it was his own voice that he heard suggesting that, looking just as shocked as she did. Apparently, neither one of them could believe what had just happened.

This felt way too much like a date...

"Yeah," she accepted slowly. "Dancing is good. And, you know, you should invite the guys. And I'll make sure Marron and Bra come along." She smiled mischievously, a glitter in her eyes as she tried hard not to laugh. Trunks was giving her a horrified expression.

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Pan." Trunks argued, shaking his head and giving her a weary look. "I don't know if you're aware, but.."

"I'm aware. And, if we can work out our problems, they'll just have to get over it. Bra's coming if I had to tie her up and drag her there. Same with Marron. Now, where do you suggest we go?" Her tone left no room for argument and neither did her smile.

He hated to tell someone who looked that happy about an idiotic idea, that the idea was... idiotic. It just didn't seem right to burst her bubble. Besides, if he had to spend an awkward night with Pan, brooding over why she wouldn't tell him she was pregnant, then at least he'd have some amusement during it all. And he'd be able to test his theory for fact.

"How about _The Talisman_? I've heard a good bit about how wonderful it is and I've been meaning to try it out. But I'm not exactly the partying type of guy, you know. I think it'd be a great opportunity to try it." He supplied instead of arguing with her the way he had originally wanted to.

This could possibly be a very good thing.

* * *

Things had been a whole lot simpler when her best friend was just her best friend. When the person she dreamt about holding her didn't have a face or a name. Things were easier when she didn't know what she would be doing eight months from now; hell, she hadn't even known what she would be doing eight _days_ from now. 

Things were easier when she only had to think for herself and not concern herself with anyone else. Now it wasn't just about her, anymore. And, soon, it wouldn't even be about her at all. She didn't know what being a mother would be like but she did know that she was scared witless. And she had no one to share this fear with.

Her friends thought she deserved what she'd gotten, even though they hadn't been crude enough to say it to her face, and she really couldn't blame them. She felt the same way. She had made her own bed and now she had to lay in it. That didn't mean she had to look forward to it, however.

Still, she had to find the good in her situation or she wouldn't be able to survive it. And, she supposed, the best thing was that she would have a remnant of the only man she ever had and ever would really love, in her child. The worst part, however, was that she had to _tell_ that man that she was pregnant.

And there was no way that he wouldn't want to be involved in his child's life. Of course, she had to chance the possibility that he would look her in the face and doubt that it was even his child. She straightened her shoulders, as she looked at herself in the mirror, and prepared herself for that possibility. He would be justified in his thought if he asked, because he had known her to be promiscuous. But on this one thing, she was sure. And, for that, she was the most thankful.

She had not slept with anyone for more than three months before Ubuu and she hadn't slept with anyone since. At least she had that to offer him, if she was going to ruin his life sometime in the near future. And it had to be the near future because if she waited any longer to tell him she was pregnant, when Pan and Bra knew, the chance of the results being disastrous could only increase.

If there was one thing that she didn't need more of in her life, it was drama.

She sighed heavily as she spun, examining herself in the mirror. She lifted her shirt, poked her stomach out, sucked it in, and then shoved the shirt back down with force. She repeated the process again from one side, then again from the other. Finally, when she'd made her way all the way back to the front, her doorbell sounded and she jumped, stopping herself from doing it again.

Forcing a smile on her face, she pulled the door open slightly and peered out. The smile dropped immediately, however, when she saw the face of the person behind the door.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, almost harshly, without stepping back from the door to let the person in.

* * *

Bra threw her body heavily on the bed, finally letting out the scream that she had been holding in nearly all day. It had been building up inside of her since the moment she and Goten's eyes met and he stood up from the table and excused himself without even taking the time to _say_ excuse me to her. He hadn't even spoken a hello. Nothing. 

He just picked himself up from the table, as if she weren't even standing there, and walked right out of the room. They all had. As if nothing was strange. As if nothing needed to be asked or answered.

He got up and left the room as if she didn't even matter.

Bra was tired of being invisible. It was time to put an end to being seen through, she decided, rolling over on her side and trying to push the memory of the blank look of his face out of her mind. He hadn't cared about her at all, she realized as her stomach swooped down into her knees. He wouldn't pause to toss her a quarter if she was dying of starvation from lack of money.

He didn't realize she _existed_. And she had thought that she could make that man fall in love with her! How? He hadn't skipped a beat when she threw him out of her life. He hadn't asked to talk to her, be with her, or anything of the sort. He hadn't even ever apologized to her. He didn't even want to be friends with her.

She got it now: she didn't even register on his radar. She was not important. And that was okay, she didn't need him. Not anymore.

It wasn't until she had that thought that she realized she was sniffing. Her nose was stuffy. Was she getting sick? Her throat felt constricted and her chest was heaving. Maybe she had a fever?

Then she tasted the salty wetness that was sliding down her cheeks and realized that she wasn't sick at all. She was crying. She was actually crying. Real tears.

She hopped off the bed, not believing that this was actually happening, and ran to the mirror. She had to see this for herself. She could _feel_ it, but she had to see it. She had to really believe it. She ran right up to the mirror, stopping only right before her face brushed with the glass and, sure enough, there were the crystal clear tears. They were sliding down her face in rapid succession. Her face was turning red.

Everything that she had been holding inside for years, everything that had built up and been pent up inside her, came pouring out of her in that moment. Every scathing glance from someone else, every time someone hurt her or belittled her, every time people shoved her off as if she wasn't important, came rushing back. Every party she had ever gone to and been encouraged to pretend to be vapid and peppy, every time she had ever jokingly told someone she was stupid to just to fit in, every single degree of pain and frustration that she had felt came seeping out.

The going-away party that her best friend missed, her first love spent making out with his girlfriend, and her brother spent sulking about a young girl that she hadn't even like–because she had been jealous of Pan at the time. Her father's good-bye. Her mother's casual dismissals. Her brother's over-protective, neglecting attitude. Her father's disappointment. The way she could never meet her mother's expectations. The downward spiral of her brother after she left him...

Everything spiraled and circled her, falling out of her soul like rainwater dripping from the morning leaves of sleepy trees. All her emotions pulled out of her body and dripped down, cleansing the part of her that had weighed her down for so long.

The dam was broken. It no longer existed; she was free.

"Bra," she heard a voice call her back to the world of the present, a hand touching her shoulder gently. She hadn't even been aware that someone was in her room. "Why are you crying and laughing at the same time?"

* * *

"What are you doing here?" Marron repeated, more hostile this time, when the person didn't respond. 

"I'm not allowed to visit a friend?" Paris asked innocently as she pushed Marron out of the way and showed herself into the small apartment. "I mean, we haven't seen each other in a while."

"You and Goten broke up," Marron decided to take the direct approach, eyeing the girl suspiciously. "I was his friend, yours by association. You are no longer associated, therefore, we are no longer friends." She clarified, as if the girl were daft.

"So are you asking me to get out?" Paris questioned flatly, eyeing Marron a little closer, the smile that had been on her face disappearing. "Because I can leave if that's what you want." She sugar-coated, even though her tone was still dangerous.

There was an unspoken challenge in Paris' voice as she asked the question, secretly daring Marron to tell her to leave. There would be consequences, Marron knew, if she did.

But, honestly, Marron was tired of playing this pointless game. She was tired of being trapped in unwritten rules of civility and the necessity to share gossip. She had nothing to say to Paris. She wasn't about to tell the girl what was going on with Goten or Bra, and she really wasn't going to tell Paris that she was pregnant.

Marron just wanted the girl to go away and, if that was how she felt, then she should be able to say so. She shouldn't be trapped in some unyielding circle that didn't allow her to breathe when she wanted to draw in a breath. There was no need to play this game anymore.

She wasn't that person anymore.

"Actually, yes Paris, I was on my way out." She told the woman. It wasn't a complete lie, she had been _thinking_ about going out. And, besides, there was no need to be totally rude just because she no longer wanted to humor the girl with false civility.

"Oh, well then, you won't mind if I accompany you. Right?"

"A-" Marron had opened her mouth to say that it was actually kind-of personal, but stopped herself before she even uttered the first word. Why should she have to explain herself to this girl. They weren't friends. They weren't even associates anymore. She had no reason to make excuses to Paris. If anyone should be explaining anything, it should be Paris.

The phone rang in time enough to cover the awkward second that Marron took contemplating this truth. Marron only rolled her eyes and turned around, walking to pick it up. Clicking the on button, she turned back to Paris and shook her head. "Why are you here?" She asked before saying a nice, "Hello?"

Paris made no move to reply as Marron talked on the phone, bursting out with the occasional, "Well, why would I?" and "I don't think so."

Paris quirked a curious eyebrow as she made out the phrases, "Tonight?" and "_The Talisman_?" Before hearing her ex's name mentioned. Smiling slowly, she turned around and headed towards Marron's door. She had all she wanted.

"You know what Mar, I just remembered that I have a nail appointment in twenty minutes. I must get going. Luv ya, babe." And she slammed the door nastily behind her.

_To be continued..._


	24. Dirty Dancing

Rainwater  
Chapter 23: Dirty Dancing  
Rating: R for sexual situations and suggestions, adult topics and language.  
_WitchyPrincess_

_Dirty Dancing_

_We live as we dream–alone. Alone in a world full of people. What a shame, really. Surrounded by smiling faces, each and every one of them nameless, without personality. And nothing ever really changes that. _

_The only way to survive is to fight. To try hard not to become one of those faces. Drowning in your own sea of despair and anonymity, you have to struggle to sustain yourself above sea level. Without a lifeline, because really no one can save you if you can't swim on your own, you have to find a way to survive in an ocean of confusion and loneliness. An entire world of confusion. _

_I don't think I was ready to swim when I jumped off the diving board, you see, right into the deep end. And that's where I went wrong. I spent all of my energy screaming for a lifeguard to come and save me when I should have been trying to swim back to shore myself. _

_And, until recently, I had been drowning. But it wasn't salt water that was doing me in. It was my own pain–harmless, innocent, rainwater–choking me until I couldn't remember how to breathe. It was teaching myself how to spit it up that saved me._

_Nothing, no one, else. _

_–Bra Briefs _

#######

"Bra," she heard a voice call her back to the world of the present, a hand touching her shoulder gently. She hadn't even been aware that someone was in her room. "Why are you crying and laughing at the same time?"

Bra twisted her head, looking at the woman with a nearly mad glint to her eyes, lips curving upwards slightly. She hadn't been aware that she was laughing either. She must be truly losing it, she thought comically to herself.

"Because, mother, I'm a person. I'm a person that sees, that feels, that lives and breathes. And there's nothing you can say that will make me feel sorry about that. And, you know what? Even if there _were_ something you could say, I wouldn't listen to it because I've spent too much of my life overhearing and not enough of it believing and acting on those beliefs. I don't owe you anything. And do you know what I've just realized?"

She stood there for a half a second, gazing at her mother as if she expected the woman to answer, the smile still pressing lightly onto her lips. Bulma was too stunned by her daughter's attitude to move, much less respond, and only stood there gaping while she waited for Bra to answer the question she'd just posed.

"I've just realized that _you_ don't owe me anything either. I've spent the last seven years of my life waiting for you to apologize to me for mistakes you didn't even know you were making. I've been holed-up inside myself, thinking about how the world had done me wrong, when, really, I had no one to blame but me."

Looking away, eyes going unfocused, as if lost in a world of her own, the girl continued her speech without heed, "I shouldn't expect you to be perfect. And the crazy thing about it is, I shouldn't expect _me _to be perfect either. No one should want that from anybody else because it's the imperfections that _make_ us who we are." The last part was said as if it were a revelation, her entire face lighting up as she finally got the words off her chest. Drawing in a breath, she turned her shining eyes back in her mother's direction and threw her arms around the woman's neck.

"I'm so sorry I didn't see that a few years ago. I could have saved us all a lot of heartbreak," she apologized in her own 'Briefs' way, burying her head in her mother's neck, losing herself in the embrace that Bulma returned full force.

#######

Goten looked at Trunks skeptically, raising an eyebrow to ask 'are you serious' without actually uttering the words. His eyes told it all. When Trunks smiled but didn't respond, Goten took it upon himself to voice his thoughts out loud.

"I...Are..Is, I mean..." At least, he _tried_to voice his thoughts. Finally, "Why on earth would you want to go to a club when my niece has just told you she was pregnant with your accidental baby?" His voice was more than slightly incredulous and harsher than he'd intended for it to be.

He couldn't help it, however. It had been one thing to find out that Trunks and Pan were actually having some sort of relationship, but it was another completely when he was told that there might still be remnants of that relationship lingering about forever more.

When 'Trunks and Pan' could be left to the past as nothing more than a mistake that shouldn't have occurred, he could forgive them both, but when it was still an issue Goten simply didn't know what to do about that. He needed to know, one way or another, if Pan were pregnant because he didn't know how to even deal with possibility, much less the reality of it.

Trunks burst into a small round of laughter as he shook his head, looking from Goten to Ubuu with a mirthful sparkle to his eyes.

"If I'm about to be a father, Pan has said nothing of the matter," he finally admitted, after taking a moment to catch his breath. "No, I just thought that getting out would be good for us. You know. It'll give us some time to catch up on all the things we've missed, and we can always drown our sorrows in alcohol and club women if that turns out to be a bust." He added lightly, his eyes still glowing that mysterious shade of sky-blue.

"What are you so happy about?" Ubuu asked him suspiciously, not giving Goten the chance to respond one way or another. "I'm not trusting the glint in your eyes."

Trunks quirked an eyebrow defensively. "I'm not happy about anything in particular. More like what's to come, than what's passed, that's kept me in good spirits."

"And, pray tell," Goten jumped in, becoming more guarded because of Ubuu's suspicions. "What's to come?"

"Happiness, my friends," he answered evasively, the stupid grin still covering his face. "I hear her approaching and I'm waiting anxiously by the door."

"Yeah, whatever. Just don't hold your breath Trunks." Goten informed him cynically, not really knowing what to make of his friend's complete change of mood.

After Trunks' talk with Pan, the boy had come back practically glowing. If Goten hadn't known better, he'd have thought they had gone off somewhere to make-out, judging by Trunks' face when he returned. His step had become lighter, his smile no longer forced. It was as if Goten could literally see that weight had been lifted off Trunks' shoulders. If one conversation with the girl put him in such a good mood, and if Pan were half as happy as Trunks was at this moment, Goten wouldn't object at all to them spending much more time together. No matter what had happened in the past.

Bygones, after all, were already gone.

"So what time are we going to this club?" Ubuu followed, always being the one to point out the practical in the situation.

"Eight o'clock," Trunks supplied before stealthily easing his way towards the door. The other two boys engaged in general conversation about the rest of their day's plans, not hearing the open and close that signified Trunks' exit. He was out of the room and into another part of the house before either of them even noticed he was missing.

He simply wasn't prepared to answer more questions than he had to.

#######

A wistful smile appeared on Goten's face as he pulled out his clothes in preparation for the night ahead. Physically, he was taking down a blue-collared shirt and black slacks, but mentally he was with Bra. He was always with Bra these days.

His mind never seemed to leave the subject of her. She was his dreams, his conscious thoughts, his unconscious thoughts... It just never seemed to end these days. At first he'd thought that he could fight it–if not fight _for_ her, he'd thought he could fight _her_. Then, once he'd realized that he couldn't, he had thought that he could just ignore it.

Now he knew that she wasn't going to be ignored either. And today, for the first time, he'd realized that it might possibly be too late. Before he had assumed that, even if he didn't go crawling back to her with a heartfelt apology about how many times he had done her wrong, she would turn back to him and cling the way she used to. He had thought that she wouldn't be able to keep up with this hard-to-get charade much longer.

It wasn't really until today that he realized it wasn't a charade.

When she walked into her kitchen today, lightly glazed with sweat from training, eyes hard and disciplined, he realized that the Bra he'd known was gone. This new one that had replaced her was not going to stand by and allow him to walk all over her. This new one knew how to fight and did it often. He could tell, just by the glint in her eyes, that if he wanted to make this work he was going to have to be a little tougher.

But, then again, he had really known all this before. He had been telling himself many things as excuses to why he hadn't tried to reconcile things with her. Excuses that ranged from he wanted to give her time and he didn't want to rush her into anything, to he thought she was too angry to forgive him right now and she wasn't ready. Or, he wanted to make sure that he was doing the absolute best thing by both of them and not taking advantage of her; he wanted to make sure that he was in love with her. The list went on for ages but the truth was, when it came right down to it, they were nothing but just that: excuses.

The truth of the matter was that Goten was scared. He was afraid that he would tell Bra how he felt, present his heart to her, and then he would be vulnerable. She could do any number of things to him while he was vulnerable. She could toss him aside the same way he'd done her. Or worse, she could refuse to hear what he had to say at all. Ironically, once again the same thing he did to her.

He would deserve it, he knew, if she did either of those. He just didn't think he would be able to handle it if that were the case. And that was why, the honest reason why, he had been avoiding her for all this time. For, as much as he loved the thought of someone being strong for him, he hadn't the strength to reciprocate the sentiments.

That was downright disgusting, he knew. He didn't deserve her but he was going to ask her to forgive him anyway. The very next time he saw her, he promised himself, he would ask.

#######

Pan stepped nervously into the club with Bra at her side, suspiciously happy that Marron had volunteered to drop them off at the door and find a parking space before meeting up with them. Her eyes darted from one side of the dark room to the other, ignoring the flashing lights and loud music that pounded in her ears. She was only concerned with one thing: where Trunks and the boys where.

That and, of course, Bra's reaction when she saw that Goten was here. Then Pan, realizing that she was beginning to look a little suspicious herself, forced herself to stop looking for the boys and turn her eyes in Bra's direction.

"So, this place is..." Pan started, trailing off when a crowd of people started to let out a series of whoops as the guitar player from the band leapt off the stage and onto the waiting hands. Crowd surfing, Pan thought idly, a lazing smile falling onto her face.

"What possessed you to want to come here?" Bra asked incredulously. "For some reason, I can't picture you as the parting, club-type of girl." Bra's eyes seem to be telling Pan the same thing, as the girl examined Pan's outfit one more time.

She was wearing a black mini-dress that stopped at mid thigh and hugged each part of her curves. A gold, slinky looking belt circled her waist, one end of the chain hanging down until it met up with the end of her dress. Bra had never seen Pan in anything like that before and she used this information as proof that Pan was not the type of girl to hang out in places like this.

"I bet you've never even _owned_ a dress like that before." Bra stated dryly, her eyes scanning the place instead of making contact with Pan when she said it.

Something, it was very obvious, was bothering her. The thought made Pan frown as she eased her way farther into the club, grabbing Bra's arm and pulling her along. "Why don't we go find a table and then I'll go get Marron." Pan stated nervously, slightly cut because of Bra's rude comment.

"Or," Bra suggested just as dryly as before, her voice not losing it's edge. "You could tell me exactly why the hell Goten is here. At this club. With my brother and Ubuu."

Okay, so apparently Bra had found Trunks, Ubuu, and Goten while Pan was searching for them. That was why her tone was so harsh and that was why her eyes weren't meeting with Pan's. She had to be trying to keep her calm. Pan let go of Bra's arm, turning to her with the coolest expression she could manage. If she looked guilty it would all be over.

"What are you talking about Bra?" She asked, almost believing herself that she didn't know what the girl meant.

"Look over there." Bra stated, the heat still in her voice, her finger pointing at almost the exact same moment as Goten pointed in their direction. "What are they doing here?" She demanded, her jaw clenched. "And tell me you had nothing to do with this."

"Bra," Pan started, slightly lecturing in her tone. Just then, Marron walked up behind them and let her eyes drift to what Bra and Pan were both staring out. The blonde let out a startled gasp and clutched the first arm that her hands came in contact with. It just so happened to be Pan's.

"What are they doing here!" Marron yelled, making sure her voice rose above the music pounding in the background.

Both Bra and Marron turned to look at Pan, an urgent demand in their eyes. Pan scowled.

"I'm supposed to know?" Pan asked with disbelief, looking over their shoulders in just enough to time to see Ubuu's enraged face upon discovering that Marron was also here. "Like I would choose to hang out with _Trunks_ in my spare time. Not to mention, pull you guys with me." She called back, her voice rising nearly as loud as Marron's had been. "WHY would I do that?"

"You had nothing to do with this?" Bra demanded again, her eyes sharp as she waited for Pan's response.

Pan swallowed, not really wanting to lie. As she opened her mouth, Marron sighed and interrupted.

"Let's get out of here." She suggested, looking at both girls hopefully. Her face had turned a shade whiter and it was clear that she was very nervous about having Ubuu come talk to her. Both girls could tell that she wasn't ready to have the discussion she needed to have with him.

"We can't do that." Pan stated desperately, her voice nearly dying at the end. Bra and Marron turned to her with a murderous glint to both their eyes.

"Why not?" They both nearly yelled at her, already deciding that they were heading for the door.

"Goten has already seen us," Pan explained, her voice coming out unsure and shaky. Then she pointed, "They're all on their way over."

All three girls looked crestfallen by the time the boys reached them.

"We should have made a run for it," Marron whispered in Bra's ear, grasping the girls arm as Ubuu approached her. Trunks was making his way to Bra and Goten was already at Pan's side.

"I didn't know you were going to be here," Ubuu started civilly, eyeing Marron slowly to gouge her reaction. She smiled pleasantly, obviously forced, and nodded her head.

"I didn't expect you either." She stated, moving closer to him so that they could both hear each other.

"I think, maybe we should talk?" He asked, his voice unsure. Marron nodded before pointing to the rest of the group. Pan and Goten as well as Bra and Trunks were heading towards a table. She and Ubuu followed them.

#######

Pan took a seat at the booth they had all situated themselves at once again. Things had been tense from the moment they sat down. Pan didn't know what it was that Trunks had said to Bra to get her to come to the table instead of leaving, even though they had been spotted, but it seemed to work and Pan was grateful. Even though, currently, Bra was dancing with a man she had just met and had been getting unreasonably drunk, Pan couldn't help but be hopeful.

Goten seemed to be more down than usual and he kept glancing in whatever area Bra was occupying for the moment. Whatever guys paid Bra attention lost interest quickly because they all noticed that Goten seemed to have an unnaturally enraged expression on his face anytime any of them got too close to the girl. So Pan knew it would only be a matter of time before this new guy lost interest as well and scooped out easier prey. And then, she knew, Goten and Bra would talk. She had already made her uncle promise to watch out for Bra and not to let her get too drunk tonight but if Goten didn't stop her before she took another drink, Pan was going to have to kick his ass herself.

The girl had had too much already.

In fact, the only people who weren't drinking tonight happened to be her and Marron. Pan thought back, uncomfortably, to the look in Trunks' eyes when he insisted that she have a little something to drink.

"You look nervous," he had said, leaning towards her so that she could hear his words over the music. "Are you sure you don't want to order anything?"

She had shaken her head, telling him that she didn't want anything alcoholic to drink. Her coke, she'd said, was fine without the rum.

"It might loosen you up a bit," he insisted. "I know this whole ordeal is uncomfortable for you."

Then, of course, she had preceded to try and convince him that she wasn't uncomfortable at all. She didn't want him thinking that they couldn't get along without being nervous around each other. Although she honestly was nervous, it was only because he still managed to give her butterflies every time he looked at her. Then again, that might only be because of his strange behavior tonight.

He had asked her at least three times after that if she was sure she didn't want anything to drink. She had sipped her coke and shook her head each time, her hands lowering to her mid-section after she had told him no thank-you.

Goten had only had a glass or two and Trunks was still drinking the same margarita that he ordered when they first sat down. Of course Marron hadn't touched a drop of alcohol, like Pan, but Ubuu and Bra, on the other hand, had drunk at least four glasses each.

It had appeared as if Marron and Ubuu were going to talk when they had first sat down, but now Pan was certain that Marron had lost her nerve. She hoped the girl regained it soon because the longer she waited to tell Ubuu the truth, the worse things would get. And for the first time, Pan didn't want Marron's life to get any worse than it was. She wanted things to work out for all of them, especially Marron because she related the best with her.

That was probably why she hadn't liked Marron at first. Pan had read about that once, though she forgot what the particular condition was called. It was when you hated the people most like you because of the things about yourself that you didn't like; when someone besides yourself did something that you were likely to do, presenting some trait within yourself that you didn't like, you took an instant disliking to the person because of it. That was why most people hated those that were most like them. That was probably why Marron had hated her as well.

Marron was just as impulsive as Pan was and they were both just as starved for affection. They had both made mistakes when it came to who they should sleep with and they had been practically living the same lives these last few months. And now there was, of course, the obvious. The Marron and Ubuu situation was almost an exact mirror of what Pan and Trunks had gone through. Were still going through.

The pit of her stomach hurt, as she considered her mirror analogy, when she thought about Marron being pregnant. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, looking over at Marron and then down to the girl's stomach. Suddenly, she didn't want to think about the similarities anymore. Her game had lost its luster.

Trunks' knee brushed against hers under the table as he noticed the look she was giving Marron. He lifted a curious eyebrow, obviously wondering why she was giving Marron what she was sure was a nasty glare. She forced herself to smile even through the lump that was building in her throat, not allowing her mind to think that line of thoughts anymore.

Marron sighed, pretending like she hadn't noticed the attention she'd just received from both Trunks and Pan, before throwing her hands up and getting up from the table.

"You know what," she told them, a slight edge to her voice as the band stopped to take their ten minute break. Her voice lowered to its normal volume. "I think I'm going to go...over there...to the bar and order something to eat."

"You don't have to do that," Pan started, shaking her head with a guilty expression on her face. She knew Marron was leaving because of the uncomfortable moment she and Trunks had just had. "You're not bothering us."

Marron looked skeptically from Pan to Trunks' face. While Pan was giving Marron a look that encouraged her to sit back down, Trunks was sending a message that clearly said he thought Marron was on the right track by walking away. So she smiled kindly at Pan and shook her head before turning and heading for the bar.

Pan's face dropped when Marron turned her back to them and started walking. "She didn't have to leave," she told Trunks sharply, turning to look at him. He smirked, quirked an eyebrow, and shrugged.

"I didn't _make_ her leave." He volunteered, being frustratingly innocent about things.

"Yeah, right." She countered, leaning back in the booth and sighing. "What did you want?"

"Nothing." He answered quickly, looking from her face to his half-empty drink and then back up. "I didn't want anything."

"Then why did you want her to leave?"

"Who says I wanted her to leave?" Pan glared at him, narrowing her eyes until he wiped the superior smile off his face.

"Pan," he tried again, looking far more humble this time. "Was there something you wanted to tell me?"

Noticing the serious shine to his eyes, Pan's own began to reflect guilt, and she felt her heartbeat pick up at his question. He couldn't know. Could he? She swallowed hard, trying her best to wipe the caught expression off her face, before shaking her head. "No–nothing." She stammered, still shaking her head.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, him concentrating, her sweating, before he let it go. "Fine, if you want to be that way." He told her after a few seconds, sounding severely disappointed.

Pan had turned her head to watch the band begin to set up again. "Do you want to dance?" She blurted before he asked any more questions. Still looking disappointed, he nodded his head.

Both of them walked onto the dance floor with their faces fitted into unhappy expressions. They were standing close to each other but still so far away, and the mere thought of how close they should actually be made both of them a little sadder. Pan wished, more than anything, that life could just be fair.

Pan had expected the band to play a fast, rock ballot that would give her freedom to move farther away from Trunks and still be considered dancing _with_ him. Instead, the lead singer placed the guitar over his shoulder, took a seat on his bar stool, and pulled the microphone down to him as he started the slowest song the band had played all night.

Trunks looked down at her before placing his hands on her hips, his expression asking her if this was all right. She nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling her shoulders tense even as she placed her head on his shoulder. The second they started to sway to the rhythm of the song he pulled her body closer to his so that they fitted each other perfectly.

His hands moved down slightly from the top of her hips as her body spooned his, and she moved her head until if fit the crook of his neck. She was close enough that she was sure he heard her sigh over the music when his arms tightened around her waist. Whatever the lyrics to the song were faded until they no longer existed, until nothing else existed, when Trunks lowered his head and placed a soft kiss on Pan's neck.

Her eyes closed immediately, a gentle gasp falling automatically from her lips. She wanted to, had actually meant to, push him away but her body refused to respond negatively. Her arms, she realized, had wrapped tighter around his neck. He pushed her body back slightly, until she lifted her head and looked up at him. He was waiting for her eyes to meet with his.

"I love you," he told her truthfully, his eyes somber. "But I won't ever ask you for anything you're not willing to give me. If you don't want to tell me what's going on, Pan, then simply ask me not to ask you again."

She felt the guilt well up inside her again. Not because of what she could say, but because of what she couldn't. What she knew, eventually, she would have to admit if they were ever going to have any sort of honest friendship. It had been eating her up inside since it happened. She simply couldn't hold it in, and yet, she couldn't seem to get it out.

Shaking her head, she closed her eyes again and rested her head back on his shoulder as they continued to dance. "It's not that I don't want to tell you," she whispered to him when he had enveloped her body with his again. "It's that I can't."

She felt him nod and knew that the subject wasn't dropped, only put on hold. After all, she hadn't asked him not to ask her. She ran her hands up his neck and into his hair, allowing herself to give into the illusion that she knew was dangerous. It was like looking a gift horse in the mouth, she knew, but she couldn't stop herself. And then, though she knew she shouldn't have, she allowed herself to enjoy the feel of his hands as they eased up her hips before tickling her sides and caressing their way up her body. Her head dropped back and his lips locked with hers.

#######

Bra smiled over at Trunks and Pan, knowing that their actions were not a result of impulsiveness or drunken stupidity. There was a hope, Bra thought with slight glee, of them actually working things out. Her own problems on the other hand...

She looked down at the glass she was holding and shook her head, placing it back on the table that she was standing next to. She shouldn't be getting drunk. Not because of this. Not because of him.

She was okay now, after all. She had taken the biggest step of her life this afternoon. She had forgiven herself; she had learned to cry. Now was the time to wipe her tears and move on with her life, not drown herself in alcohol and bitterness.

And she knew that. It was just that Goten kept looking at her with this...this expression that she didn't understand or care to understand. This sort-of regretful, guilty expression that made her want to reach out and cuddle him. And the only thing that had taken her mind off of comforting him was drinking, so she had gotten herself a little tipsy.

Now she realized that this was a mistake. He was on his way over towards her and now her defenses were down. She wouldn't be able to be her usually cold, snappy self. She wouldn't be able to walk away from him because she was a little too out of it to want to. Instead, she smiled slightly and shifted her weight from one hip to the other, feeling her yellow skirt sway to the other side of her body. She straightened the single strap of her white shirt before looking away from his brown eyes nervously.

"Would you mind giving me your drink?" He asked her immediately, his eyes no longer sad or sorrowful but filled instead with a slight bit of amusement.

"Only if you tell me what's so funny." She conditioned, picking up her drink from the table she had sat it on and looking down at it contemplatively.

"You're blushing." He informed her with a smirk that she just barely caught when she looked up to his face with a startled expression.

"I'm not blushing." She countered, shaking her head seriously.

"I promise you, you are." He reached out, taking the glass easily from her clutching hand. Apparently, her hand coordination was off because it looked as though she hadn't even tried to stop him, though she knew she had.

"Why would I be blushing?" She challenged, still not believing him.

"I don't know," he started, a devilish glint in his eyes. "Something to do with me, I'm sure. So why don't you tell me all about it. I bet I'd love to have all the details. Especially," here he smiled roguishly at her. "_Especially_ if it's dirty."

"You're disgusting." She informed him, glaring the best she could.

"Maybe," he shrugged, still smiling a bit. "But your blush has deepened."

Embarrassed, she turned her face away from him and automatically covered it with her hands.

"Don't," he protested, pouting slightly as he finished off her drink. He sat the glass back down and then placed his fingers lightly under her chin, turning her face back to his. "I think it's adorable."

Her face was redder than he had ever seen it at this point, and she could now feel the burn that indicated the color of her skin was akin to cherries. He was grinning again and she took the opportunity to punch his shoulder lightly.

"You hold your alcohol well." He informed her, removing his fingers from her chin so that he could rub his shoulder. "That hurt."

"Apparently not well enough. I'm still talking to you _and_ I'm as red as watermelons."

"Those are green." He deliberately tried to confuse her. "I _believe_ you mean tomatoes."

It worked, she actually thought about it for a second before she could respond. "They're not green on the inside." She told him indignantly. "And stop teasing me, it's not nice to toy with a drunk girl's feelings."

"Do you still love me Bra?" He blurted, his smile dropping almost immediately.

She frowned. "What the hell kind of question is that?" She spat, almost turning around. "I'm not _that_ drunk, Goten. And I never told you I loved you."

"You were going to, Bra, until I stopped you."

"Well, I'm not going to _now_."

"I've got to know, Bra," he nearly pleaded with her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Why?" She questioned, pushing his hand away.

"Because, if you don't, I've got a whole lot of work ahead of me and I'd like the heads up."

"What are you talking about?" She felt her head start to throb. "What are you saying to me?"

"I'm saying I love you. I love you and I want you to forgive me." He told her without a moment's hesitation, not even the slightest bit ashamed of what he'd just admitted.

She studied him for a second before shrugging, her eyes unreadable. "Maybe it's too late." She offered, attempting to turn around again. His hand stopped her from moving, again.

"Don't say maybe, Bra. Say yes or not, but not maybe. I'm not letting you get away this time. I want you to forgive me and I won't take no for an answer." He had moved closer to her during the speech, making sure that she caught every single one of his words. She shook her head at him, trying to back away, he wouldn't let her.

"Do you still love me?" He asked instead of releasing her. She didn't answer, she lowered her head and lost her lunch on his shoes instead. He groaned and quirked an eyebrow. "I'll take that as a yes." He bent over and placed one arm under her knees, the other over her shoulders, and picked her up. "Nothing says 'I love you' like _that_ Bra."

"Let's get you out of here. Shall we?" She moaned and closed her eyes, placing her head on his shoulder.

#######

The girl narrowed her eyes as she watched Goten's playful conversation with the blue-haired woman. Well, girl really. They both seemed to be flirting, and it was obvious that the girl was drunk by her slightly swerving stance. That and the fact that Paris had watched her down three drinks in the last half-hour.

Paris had been about to approach Goten when he walked up to the girl, and it made her teeth clench to watch them together. For as long as she had been here, Goten had been watching Bra, and Paris had been watching him watch her. Obviously, the brown-haired girl thought with sorrow, this ship had sailed. Goten was lost to her.

He was in love with that stupid little girl and there was nothing Paris could do about it. Though, honestly, she couldn't blame everything on Bra. She had lost Goten a long time ago. Maybe she had never even really had him. Though she knew for sure that there had been a time when he was in love with her, she was certain that it had been a long time ago. They hadn't been really happy in years.

They had had their good days and they had had their bad, but they were never really _happy_. She hated admitting it, even to herself. If she couldn't be happy with Goten, who had been so complacent and kind with her, then she couldn't be happy with anyone. And they had spent so much time on trying to be together. She didn't think she'd ever find anyone like him again.

She knew she would never love anyone like she loved him again.

The mere thought made her want to do something dangerous. Stupid. Then she spotted Marron over at the bar, Marron's blue eyes trained on the figure of her best friend, and remembered the girl's snappy behavior earlier. Her eyes narrowed. No one talked to her, treated her, that way and got away with it. No one.

#######

Marron had been looking for Ubuu for at least twenty minutes now. She was ready to get out of this place and she couldn't leave alone. Goten and Bra had already left and they had taken Trunks' car, apparently, so Marron had to drive the rest of them home.

Not to mention, she needed to talk to Ubuu anyway and she wasn't going to tell him that she was in love with him and pregnant with his child in a club. With people getting smashed and throwing themselves off stages in the background. That wasn't very tactful at all.

But she had lost sight of Ubuu a while ago and now she didn't know where the hell he was. She truly wasn't in the mood for this cat and mouse game, she was getting a little nauseous and she didn't want to have a 'morning sickness' episode here.

Then she saw him. Obviously drunk, arms wrapped tightly around the waist of a pretty brunette. A pretty brunette who was currently grinding into him as if they were having sex, in public, with their clothes on. Her jaw clenched, teeth grating against each other, as her hands formed fists. She felt her eyes water but she marched over to his direction anyway, seeing nothing but her anger.

She slammed her hand onto his shoulder and wrenched him around, her entire face mutating into an enraged expression when she realized that the girl was none other than Paris.

"What the hell is _she _doing here?" She yelled, glaring at the both of them. "With you attached to her ass?"

"Dancing, Marron, what does it look like?" Ubuu asked, maintaining his calm. He smirked at her, making it very apparent that her annoyance made him happy. "Why? You finally noticed I'm here?"

"I need to talk to you." She told him dryly, ignoring the gloating smile on Paris' face.

"He's busy, sweetheart." Paris interrupted, pulling Ubuu to face her again.

Marron glared and yanked him back around, turning her icy eyes on Paris and making it clear that she _would_ murder the girl if she said another word. Paris quieted immediately, her smile turning downwards.

"I need to talk to you." She reiterated.

"Funny," Ubuu told her, crossing his arms. "I remember saying that same thing to you at least two hours ago. And what did you do then?" He questioned, an irritating calmness to his voice.

"I wasn't ready to talk then, Ubuu." Marron told him insistently, slightly begging. Then, "Please, let's just-"

"Marron, sweetheart, now _I _don't want to talk. Respect that and walk away."

She shook her head, feeling the tears spring new again, but not letting them drop. "No. I'm ready to go and I'm your only ride home."

"Wait a few minutes." He told her dryly.

"I don't have a few minutes. I feel sick now."

"Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn't have had so much to drink." He quipped.

"I didn't have anything to drink. And you'd know that if you had stuck around a little while." She threw back at him, her voice turning deadly cold.

"Then what's the matter, Marron? You couldn't find anyone eager enough to fuck you?" He threw back. And, though she knew it was the alcohol talking and not him, she pulled her hand back and threw it at his face. She knocked his head back with the slap, this time unable to hold the tears back.

"I'm leaving right now." She told him, stepping back a little because she couldn't believe that she had just slapped him. "With or without you."

"Then go ahead. I'll catch a ride with Paris." He informed without hesitation, taking Paris in his arms again.

She shook her head in disbelief, not knowing what to say. Her mouth opened but nothing came out until the third try. "Please, Ubuu, don't do this." She begged him.

"Get out of my face, Marron." He commanded, looking sternly away from her pleading eyes. He was angry because she had slapped him, clearly.

"If you love me, _at all_, you won't do this. Please," she tried again, grabbing his arm. The tears were spilling down her face in torrents by this point. "I need to talk to you. I need to tell you-"

"I don't care Marron." He told her harshly, pushing her hands away. "_Get out of my face_. I'm through with this. All of it."

Her stomach dropped, her heart falling to her knees. He couldn't do this. He simply couldn't. Not right now. He had the worst timing in the world.

How dare he give up on her when she needed him the most?

"But I–"

"I don't care." And he walked away. With Paris clinging to his arm.

#######

Trunks was still standing outside, dazed about what happened. He had kissed Pan. He had pulled away from the kiss first, looking more confused and shocked than she did, even though he had initiated it. She had not been upset, he realized only now. She had simply been a little confused.

But she should have been upset. He was upset. He hadn't meant to do that to her and she knew it. Maybe that was why she hadn't been upset.

They had stared at each other for a few seconds before moving farther away from each other. He had opened his mouth to try to explain but she had shushed him, either not caring or already knowing why he did it. Then Goten had come and told Trunks that he was taking Bra home and they all needed to ride with Marron. So Trunks had sent Pan to tell Marron and had taken the opportunity, himself, to escape to the outside.

He heard the back door to the club open and didn't even bother to turn around as the person stepped into the night air. He knew who it was, of course. He could smell her, always, before he saw her. "You should go back inside, Pan." He told her, twisting his head so that he could see her.

She was standing beside him, resting her back against the brick of the wall, looking more gorgeous in the moon lighting than she had under the strobe.

"You're not the boss of me, Trunks." She shook him off, not paying attention to his suggestion.

"I'm sorry." He told her after a tense few moments of silence.

"Don't be. I'm not."

"You're not?" He asked, turning to face her, eyebrows up.

"Why should I be? I mean, we had to get it out of our systems right?" She crossed her arms. "I mean, it was just a kiss."

"It wasn't just a kiss, Pan," he told her, shaking his head. "At least, not to me. And if that's what you felt, then I'm sorry. I wish it wasn't. It was so much more than that to me. And it's not _out of my system_ either. I still want you. Now more than ever, in fact."

"I guess," she told him after a moment. "That's my fault. I mean, I'm the one who put on this stupid dress."

He rolled his eyes. "It's not the dress, babe." He told her gently. "I mean, don't get me wrong, it's a _great_ dress. But, honestly, it doesn't matter what you wear, I'm always thinking of ways to get you out of it."

"Just pull down the zipper, Trunks." She teased, turning so that he could see the black zipper that kept the dress on her body. He groaned, and turned away from her, resting against the wall again. "Or, you know, you could kiss me just the way you did earlier again. I'm sure that would work."

"That's not funny, Pan."

"Sorry, I couldn't resist."

"You see," he started in distress. "This is what I mean."

"What?" She asked curiously.

"_This_. How are we supposed to be friends if I'm always thinking about sleeping with you? Or holding you? Or, just, loving you?"

She didn't answer him.

"That's what I thought." He told her dryly, turning once again to look at her face. She sighed.

"Trunks, I think about those things too. But, I just know they can't be so I don't let it go any farther than that. Until, of course, you kiss me. And then I can't stop it myself."

He rolled his eyes again, this time holding back the groan. "Dende, Pan you shouldn't have told me that. Now I'm going to have to kiss you all the time. I can't do what you do, Pan. I can't know that it just can't be. Especially not now. When I know you feel the same way.

"All I know is that I love you. And I only ever want to love you." He pulled her into his arms, feeling slightly overwhelmed with emotion, and showered a couple of kisses along her face. She closed her eyes, welcoming his touch. "And," he whispered, kissing under her ear and making her sigh. "I'm _going_ to love you. Always."

Then he pulled away and looked seriously into her eyes. "But I don't think it's a good idea for us to keep seeing each other like this. Like I told you before, we can't be friends. I'm in love with you. That's why I have to know, Pan. I have to ask. So that I'll know, one way or the other, what it's going to be."

"What are you talking about Trunks?" She asked hesitantly, backing away from his arms.

"Pan, I need you to be honest with me. Promise you'll be honest." He commanded, waiting until she nodded her head.

"Of course. I promise." She told him, worry filling her eyes.

"Then tell me, Pan. Are you pregnant?"

She gulped and pulled completely away from him, closing her eyes quickly and shaking her head, as if in shock.

And he knew, instantly, that she wasn't shaking her head 'no' in answer. She was shaking it 'no' in disbelief. Then he saw the tears slide past her cheeks and he pulled her into his arms.

_To be continued..._

**sidenote:** I'm sorry about the lateness of this chapter. I just got sick last week when I was supposed to write this chapter. Then, of course, I got a case of writer's block with this chapter and it had to under-go a re-write. So, that was pleasant. Then, yesterday, my internet wants to go out for no apparent reason. So, I'm really sorry, once again.

Also, I just had a couple more things to say: 1) I have to say, last chapter, I expected to get a lot of confused reviews about whether or not Pan was pregnant. I thought I'd get them for both chapter twenty-one and twenty-two, I certainly did put in a lot of...-cough- Anyway. Um. If you don't know what I'm talking about, go read the end of chapter twenty-one (the one _I_ labeled twenty-one) and then tell me what you think.

2) Do _you_ think Pan is pregnant now? Yes? No? Are you _sure_? (Here's a hint: if your answer to the last question was 'yes' you're wrong. You can't be sure because I haven't given you enough clues, one way or the other, to say yes or no. haha!)

3) If you don't know what's really going on right now, and thought this chapter was whacky/confusing, that's okay. Stick with me for a couple more and maybe it will become less confusing. And, I apologize in advance for those of you who were confused.

4) While I'm at it, thank you guys so much for your enthusiastic and encouraging replies. I love them so much and I really wouldn't be able to get through this story if it weren't for your reviews. You guys really do keep me going sometimes. So, thank-you in advance for making my week next week.


	25. Clarifications

Rainwater  
Chapter 24: Clarifications  
Rating: R for sexual situations and suggestions, adult topics and language.  
_WitchyPrincess___

_Clarifications_

_I'm so cold; though it's not outside, it's winter inside. Cold as death. I _feel_ dead. But I know the spring will come again._

_At least, I know that's what I'm supposed to think because I had watched the other two girls do it. I had watched them gather the shattered pieces and glue them back together again. But maybe they were an exception. Or maybe I'm just weak. Because I can't imagine life again–the feel of the sun is lost to me. _

_Everything is frozen. Numb._

_–Marron Chestnut  
_#######

Marron didn't really know where she was going or what she was doing when she made her way out of the club. She was in a state of shock that kept her from realizing her surroundings or even making sense out of the simplest gestures. If she had been able to concentrate, to pay attention, she would have noticed that Pan and Trunks were in a potentially suggestive situation, gripping onto each other as if their lives depended on it.

She would have also noticed Pan's words as well, words that could have possibly explained why they were the way they were. But she wasn't able to pay attention to Pan and Trunks. In fact, by the time she realized that she even knew the hugging couple standing outside of the club, the only words her fuddled brain registered didn't make sense to her.

"I just," Pan sobbed into Trunks' shoulder. "I didn't expect things to happen this way."

Then by that time Trunks realized that they had an audience and gently shushed the girl, pushing her head closer to his neck and rubbing her back in comfort.

"Marron?" He asked cautiously, registering the girl's far off look. "Are you all right?" But she didn't turn her eyes in his direction, almost as if she hadn't noticed that he called her name. She only shook her head, looking more like she had a tick than like she was responding to his question, and walked away.

Sighing, Trunks gave Pan a squeeze and dropped his arms from around her body. He pulled her face up to look into her eyes, wiping away her tears and giving her an encouraging smile. "We'll have to talk about this later, sweetheart. But, I promise, there's no need to cry. I'm going to take care of everything." Then he took her hand in his and lead her, behind Marron, to the car.

He helped Pan into the backseat, shutting the door softly after her, an almost tender look on his face. Then he turned to Marron and crossed his arms, giving her a stern look while trying to gouge exactly how badly she was doing.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" He whispered to her, a nearly hopeful tone to his words. He was afraid that talking louder would snap whatever fragile bonds were keeping her together.

"No." Her voice came out hoarse and scratchy as she turned away from him, searching through her purse for her keys. Her hands were shaking so badly, however, she couldn't even move things aside to pull them out and she wound up dumping the whole bag over on the top of her car.

Frowning, Trunks pushed her hands aside as she tried again to gather the keys in her hand, and picked them up himself. He preceded by putting the rest of the items back into her purse and handing it to her. Then he placed his free hand on the small of her back and lead her over to the passenger side of the car.

"Buttercup," he teased lightly, remembering the childhood nickname for the blonde. "I think it would be a good idea for you to stay at Pan's tonight. I don't think either of you should be alone." He opened the door and helped her inside as well, realizing that she wasn't going to respond. Then, looking from one girl's forlorn face to the other's, he heaved a sigh and murmured to himself,

"I don't think you'll be much help to each other together either."

#######

Goten smiled down at Bra's sleeping face, pulling her high heels off and placing her feet on the couch. He grabbed the throw blanket that had been carelessly swung across the top of the couch and dropped it lightly around her, fixing the covers around her until he knew she was comfortable. Or that she would be if she were awake instead of passed out on his living room couch.

Twenty minutes earlier, he hadn't thought being alone with her was a very good idea. After her adamant denial of blushing and the throwing up escapade at the club, her mood had improved greatly. In fact, she had become a _little_more than friendly with him by the time they'd made it to his apartment. It was then that he wished he had someone else around to distract him from her playfulness. But then, as fate would have it, she passed out, falling straight into his arms.

He had to say, so far, that had been the best part about this night.

As much as he hated to see her in any kind of out-of-control position, he hated even more watching her punish him by flaunting herself around. It wasn't fair to either of them that she took out her frustrations with him by getting drunk and ignoring the problem all together. She had avoided him most of the night because she probably knew that he was feeling like the ass he was.

That and the fact that he probably did deserve it. He had been ignoring her for much longer than one measly night. He needed to keep that in mind. He wasn't some innocent victim here, she had every right to treat him any way she wanted to treat him.

Sighing, he rubbed his hands through his hair and took a seat underneath the couch, resting his head on the cushion space in front of her nose so that their faces were nearly touching. He pushed a piece of stray hair from her face before relaxing his body and closing his eyes. If she was going to be asleep, he might as well rest also. After all, he wasn't drunk but he wasn't exactly sober either.

By the time one of them was ready to open their eyes the moon was already well into the sky, the night already progressed into early day. Bra's blue eyes landed on Goten's sleeping face as confusion rushed her brain, memories slowly cascading through her memory of the night that had just unraveled. Groaning slightly, she pushed her head farther back on the couch to move her lips farther away from his, and closed her eyes again.

She didn't want to deal with this right now.

#######

Trunks walked both the women into Pan's apartment quietly, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it. Both of them stopped what they were doing, Pan taking off her jacket, Marron her shoes, and gave him a confused look. Trunks simply stood, arms crossed, with a stern expression on his face.

"Can we help you?" Marron finally came to, almost glaring at him through her lashes as they both continued to get more comfortable.

He smirked at her, surprised by her sudden re-animation, and still took his time about answering, sizing both girls up with his eyes. When Pan sighed, he offered her a little smile, and finally told them what it was he wanted.

"You were my ride home." He told Marron truthfully, trying his best not to look mischievous.

"Oh, right, and there's _no_ _possible way_for you to get home without me tonight." She quipped, becoming, it seemed, more annoyed by the second.

"Well, there really isn't. Goten and Bra are somewhere passed out, I'm sure. Pan is here and you are here, and if either of you leaves the other alone I'm afraid something dastardly will happen. And Ubuu is Dende knows where–by the way, where is Ubuu?"

Marron narrowed her eyes, growling and unsure if Trunks knew what on earth he was doing. He had to know that Ubuu was the reason she was all bent out of shape. He _had_ to know. She had left him at the club for Dende's sake. The glint in his eyes told her that he did know and was simply trying to get her mind off the subject at hand.

"And I suppose you're _so_ inconvenienced." Marron sneered, rolling her eyes. "I guess you'll just have to sleep here. With two depressed women that you are completely unrelated to and can easily take advantage of at your any whim. What a shame."

"Exactly." Trunks intoned, still suppressing a smile that he didn't truly feel but was putting on for show. A glance at Pan told him that she knew he was incredibly nervous, and they both knew why. His stomach clinched as he thought about what she had just told him, before Marron interrupted their moment.

He had never loved her more than he did at this moment, looking into her timid, unsure eyes. He only wanted to take care of her forever and ever. He never wanted to let her out of his sight and he was never going to. Not after tonight. He had made a big mistake by pushing her away in hopes of fixing things that had happened. He should have fought for her. He should have tried his hardest to keep her with him. He wanted nothing more than to fold her in his arms at this moment and protect her from everything that made her cry.

Sadly, he was part of the category of things that made her cry. Not anymore, though. No, from now on things were going to be so different than what they had been. They would never be that way again; not for any of them. He knew that with all his being.

"But seriously buttercup," He started, the smile falling from his lips. "Where is Ubuu?" His eyes had taken on a serious edge that told her he expected an answer this time. "He was pissed. Don't tell me you left him in the club without a ride."

"Oh, no," Marron shook her head, eyes turning red with unshed tears. "I didn't leave him, for your information." She turned her back on him, heading for one of the couches. Trunks and Pan shared a look that clearly meant 'uh-oh' before following Marron and taking seats as well, Pan on the chair, Trunks beside Marron on the couch.

They simply sat for a long while. Pan laid her head back on the chair, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around herself in an attempted comforting gesture. Her eyes drifted shut after a while, her breathing becoming more even though both Trunks and Marron knew she was still awake.

Trunks shifted in the chair after a few minutes, inconspicuously placing his arm across the back of the couch, then letting it fall onto Marron's shoulders. Smiling a little lopsidedly, Trunks pulled her body close to his, pushing her head down onto his shoulders. "Tell me what happened," he whispered coaxingly, almost like a gentle caress, into her ear.

She closed her eyes and buried her neck into his shoulder, making sure she didn't cry, forcing herself to smile. "I told you," she whispered back. "I didn't leave him. He left me, enough said."

Trunks shook his head, shaking her body slightly with the movement, as his fingers caressed her shoulder comfortingly. "Tell me what happened, Marron."

"Trunks," she started again, pulling her head up in an agitated fashion, narrowing her eyes again. She yanked her body away from his, pulling her shoulder out of his light grip, and trying to calm herself down. "Can I not want to talk about it? Is that okay? I mean, do you see me asking why you and Pan were making out in the club? Do you see me questioning why you two keep making eyes at each other like a fucking newly-married couple? Just..." She took a breath, leveling her temper again, trying to not lose her composure any longer.

"Just leave me alone right now. Please? I'm sorry." She mumbled, dropping her head back onto his shoulder and crying as if she were feeling pain for the first time in her life just this second.

All the while, Pan never lifted her head, though her eyes had opened somewhere between the time Trunks put his arm around Marron and before he asked her what happened. Pan's facial expression didn't change with Marron's outburst and she didn't flinch, the way Trunks did, making it seem as if she had expected Marron to lose it.

And, in truth, she had. Pan knew she would have in a similar situation, if it was anything as bad as Pan thought it had been. Marron had a lot on her plate right now and, technically, she was _allowed_ to be hormonal.

Sometimes life played the cruelest jokes.

It was obvious that, once Marron wanted to talk to Ubuu, Ubuu wanted nothing to do with hearing what she had to say. If Ubuu had heard it, Pan was sure, he would be with Marron right now. He wouldn't let the pregnant love of his life away from him for one minute, if he knew. But he didn't know, he couldn't know.

When Marron started to sob into Trunks' shoulder, however, Pan did lift her head. She gave Trunks and encouraging smile, an easy-going smile that let him know Marron's words hadn't hurt her in any way and they shouldn't bother him either, and watched as he hugged the girl to his chest.

That was good. She needed that right now. Pan was glad Trunks decided to stay; she knew that was why he chose to, to take care of Marron, but she was happy about it all the same. She would have really needed him tonight if he had chosen to go home. And not just because Marron was hysterical.

Except for Marron's heartbroken sobs, the room was silent enough to hear the crickets outside the apartment windows. Trunks' eyes lifted from Marron's head and landed on Pan's face, her own eyes. For a moment, it seemed, neither one of them breathed, and she knew instantly what he meant by the look in his eyes. He didn't have to utter a word.

Her heart swelled with his one look, brown orbs misting over at the implications because she had never felt so completely important in her life. He was looking at her as though she were beautiful. As though she were the only person in the world that mattered. And though, she knew he had Marron in his arms, he had her in his heart. He always would, no matter what.

A comfort washed over her, filled her, and whispered that everything was going to be all right. Everything that she had been worrying about for weeks was about to be fixed. She knew it and he had only locked eyes with her.

It was amazing. How had she ever thought of staying away from him? Of not telling him? Why hadn't she told him sooner? Why wasn't she telling him right now?

#######

"I know you're not asleep." She heard him murmur lazily, but refused to open her eyes. If she ignored it, it would go away. That was the way she had always treated things before, after all. Of course, it had never really worked then either. Popping one eye open, slightly, so she could peek, she was met with the sight of Goten's smirking face looking dead at her. Then, even though she knew she was caught, she snapped her eye shut again and pushed her head back a bit to pretend to still be asleep.

She registered his laughter long before she realized that her own was joining in.

"Do you have a headache." He asked after a few moments. "You were asleep for a little less than four hours, so you might have slept it all off, but,"

"If I had one, you'd only be making it worse." She admonished, using her most condescending tone.

"Stop with the hating me routine, I already know you don't. Alcohol kind-of has a reputation for releasing one's inhibitions. I know all your deepest, darkest secrets." He teased, she could still hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke.

"Shut-up." She shot out nastily.

"So that's a 'yes' to the headache question. Thanks, babe."

"Why are you a jerk?" She asked, squinting her eyes at him. "And, no, I don't have headache. I handle alcohol very well, thank-you. I simply wanted you to shut-up because _I'm tired of hearing you talk_." She clarified, her crystal eyes the personification of hate.

"I'm not being a jerk, Bra. I could say plenty about your manners, however." He answered with a wounded tone to his voice.

"I didn't say you were being a jerk _right now_." She clarified. "Only that you were a jerk." Laying her head back on the couch, she turned as best she could away from him.

"Because, I don't know if you remember this part of our conversation at the club but, I love you. I'm a jerk because I love you and I don't know how to tell you."

"Funny how you just did." She quipped, though her tone was shaky and clearly off-balance with the hard tone her voice usually took with him. He saw through her immediately.

"And you were about to tell me you felt the same way when you threw-up all over my shoes."

She smiled slightly at this, the smile turning into a grin, the grin into chuckles. "Score one for Drunk Me." She teased, opening her eyes to look at his imploring expression.

"Tell me you love me, Bra."

"You asked me not to once."

"I'm begging you to say it now."

She hesitated for a spilt second before she responded to him, an evil glint to her eyes. "Goten, what's your favorite color?"

He stared, dumbfounded, for what felt like forever before closing his mouth and calming his composure. "I don't think I have one, Bra. But, if I had to pick, I'd have to say blue." He smiled briefly before picking up a strand of her hair and running it through his fingers. "You?"

"Mine's not blue. Not anymore." She smiled secretly to herself before moving on to the next question, her eyes drawing him into a conversation he hadn't been too willing to have at first. He only wanted the answer to one question, she was asking him a million to compensate, but he suddenly seemed not to mind.

They spent the rest of the morning like that, questioning back and forth, eventually winding up spooned in each other's arms and on their way to a peaceful sleep.

"I love you, Goten," she offered finally, a soft whisper that carried to his ears only.

He grinned, pulling her closer and drifting off to a different world, holding his dream in his arms.

#######

Trunks looked down at the sleeping head on his shoulder with a slightly amused expression on his face, slightly relieved. Looking back up at Pan, his eyes seemed to glimmer with both hope and sadness.

"How long do you think she cried?" Trunks asked softly, a near whisper so as not to disturb the girl.

"Thirty four minutes and nineteen seconds before she stopped sobbing so loudly." Pan told him, clearly having been keeping the time with the clock on the wall opposite her. They both smiled at each other, knowing no one else would understand their wit the way they did.

"How long do you think she'll sleep?" He questioned next, shifting his body so that he could pick her up while waiting for Pan to respond.

"All night, most of the morning if she's that depressed. And, you know, if she doesn't get sick." The last part seemed so expected and common, natural, that she didn't even think about stopping herself before saying it. After it was out, however, she virtually froze.

"Why would she get sick?" He asked cautiously, finally putting the missing pieces together. He looked down at the sleeping girl in his arms, then back up to the woman who was now standing in front of him. Her eyes looked fearful but she didn't respond.

"Pan, why would she get sick?" He demanded this time, already knowing the answer. Pan had all but told him. They all had. Marron hadn't drunk at the club, which was highly un-Marron like, and he hadn't noticed because he'd been so concerned with Pan. Marron had been sad, moody, and brooding-type quiet the whole night as well. Lately, Pan, Marron, and Bra had stuck together like glue, both Pan and Bra being more protective of Marron than each other or themselves.

Marron had _needed_ to talk to Ubuu. Marron was pregnant. She was pregnant and it was probably her test that he had seen and not Pan's.

Then...why was...what was... "Are _you _pregnant or not?"

"Please don't tell Marron you know. Don't tell _anyone_. We didn't want anyone else to know."

"Well, we're going to have a problem then, because both of the boys already know that one of you is pregnant. They just don't know which." Or, Trunks thought confusedly as he carried Marron into the guest room, _both_ of you are...

"Where am I sleeping, by the way?" He asked casually as he made his way to the room, glancing over his shoulder at her following form.

"Well, there's only really two places. There's the guest room and then there's ... my room..."

"I think," Trunks started raised eyebrows because of the uncomfortable yet slightly suggestive way she said 'my room' that made the blood boil in his skin. "I think I'll take the couch."

"I actually meant _Marron_ could sleep in my room. We can share. You take the guest room."

"Not that I would have a problem, you know," he told her as he turned around, carrying Marron to her room instead. "Sleeping wherever. It's just that...under the circumstances."

Kicking her door open, he waited for her to enter first, and then followed with Marron. She pulled the covers back and he placed her gently on the bed, then Pan tucked the girl into the covers.

"We'd make wonderful parents, you know," he told her gently, watching an emotion he seriously thought was pain, well up in her eyes. Turning her around, away from the sleeping Marron, he locked their eyes and stared at her for a moment.

"We really do need to talk, babe." He finally got out, his heart welling inside him. What was going on? He saw the tears well up in her eyes and sighed, letting her shoulders go. "Let's take this to the other room." He suggested.

"Can we save it until the morning?" She asked wearily, wanting to stretch out in bed and go to sleep. Marron, unfortunately, was taking up Pan's entire bed by the time she glanced back again.

"Only if you answer me 'yes' or 'no' right now. Are you pregnant?"

Glaring, she rolled her eyes and pushed him out of the room, shutting the door softly behind them. Then, as if she had been waiting for just the right moment to do it, she collapsed into his arms and fell apart again.

"I don't think I'll ever be," he managed to make out of her strangled, choked sobs as he rubbed her back and pulled her tighter to his body. "I don't think I'll ever be okay now, Trunks."

#######

"What would make you say a thing like that?" He asked, after she had regained herself a little, pushing her face back to look into her eyes. She turned her head away from him and took her time about answering.

"I didn't realize I was late until Marron said she thought she might be pregnant." She whispered, leaning her head back on his body for support again.

His heart was pounding by this point and he rubbed her hair, trying to be as comforting as he knew how to be. Tonight, though, had been a trying night. "Go on."

"So naturally I thought I was pregnant. And I had every reason to think so, I mean, we had sex a lot of times Trunks and we _never_ used protection." Her voice was breaking off again as she said this, a confused note to her voice. "How could that happen? How could we do that so many times and not use protection? I mean, I didn't even _think_ about it until Marron said she might be pregnant. It was like I forgot how people got pregnant when I was with you."

Her voice died at the end, allowing him to hear the second her breathing increased. She was going to go into hysterics if he couldn't calm her down.

"Pan, you have to help me out here, because I don't really know what's wrong. It's okay, whatever happens, it's okay. You know I'll be there for you, don't you?"

"There's no need for that Trunks. I'm not and, all this time, I haven't ever been. That was the first time I was even late. What does that say about me? What do you think that means?" Her voice was condescending at the end but it did nothing to cover up how scared she was. She was shaking in his arms.

His brow furrowed as he thought on what had happened earlier tonight. "But you said, at the club...I asked you if you were pregnant and you said you didn't think I'd understand. You said that you didn't mean for things to turn up this way."

"I _don't_ think you understand. Marron's pregnant because she slept with Ubuu _one_ time. We were sleeping together for months, almost every night, and we never used protection. And yet, somehow, I'm not. Even if I wanted to Trunks, I couldn't have your children."

He smiled secretly to himself as she finished, though he realized now that they weren't going to have a child soon, and wrapped his arms tighter around her. She had said she couldn't have _his_ child, not that she couldn't have children. In her mind, they were synonymous. In her mind, if she had children, they would be his. He had caught the hopeful and regretful tone of her voice that signified the something more than what she said.

"And, _do_ you want to?" He asked after a while, voice slightly strained from curiosity.

"You're not bothered by what I just told you?" Her voice was shaky from silent tears and muffled by his shoulder.

"Of course not, _if_ that were true, it would only mean that I'd get to have to you to myself all the rest of our lives."

She ignored all the implications of his sentence, all but one. "What do you mean, 'if'?" She pulled her head back to question, needing to see the confirmation in his eyes.

"I mean, that's not true Pan." He could almost feel her heart-rate pick up speed.

"What are you saying, Trunks?"

"There's nothing wrong with you, sweetheart, or me. There's nothing wrong with us. It's just that I'm half Saiyan and it's natural for things to take a longer amount of time with us. Look at your parents, for example. They only had one child. My parents had two, years apart. Your father's parents had two, also years apart." He paused, trying to think of a good way to explain it. He wanted to make things as clear as possible.

"When Saiyans attempt to breed with humans, it takes longer for the process to work. A human body wasn't meant to breed outside it's own kind, so human women aren't as prone to get pregnant." He winced slightly, knowing that he had probably just hurt her feelings.

"I'm Saiyan, Trunks," she said slowly, almost coldly, because she knew what he was implying.

"Yes, you're one-forth Saiyan. And, because of that, it would be more likely for us to have more children than your parents or mine, but not much more likely. It's perfectly natural if it takes you a long time to get pregnant."

"So Bra and Goten could have as many children as they wanted, whenever they wanted to have them, but I have to try every night for years just to get pregnant once?"

He quirked an eyebrow. She made it sound like that was a bad thing. "I'm not complaining."

She glared in response. "I bet you aren't."

#######

He realized that he had made a mistake, the moment he opened his eyes. His head was pounding and the sun was too bright on his eyes, vision blurring with respect to how drunk he had been the night before, but he could only think of the shocked, sad look on Marron's face when he said those horrible things to her. Remembering the tears in her eyes when she slapped him.

He was the scum of the universe and she was too good for him.

He had overreacted, but that was what drunk people did. They did stupid things. They said things they wouldn't normally say. He had no excuse, though, he had been thinking those things for a long time. Not, of course, to that level of nasty, but he had been thinking that she was selfish and inconsiderate for longer than he cared to admit. He had been thinking she was promiscuous and easy for just as long, and he had been disgusted with the amount of self-value she seemed to hold for herself. Now she knew exactly how he felt, even if she thought it was to a greater degree than it was, and she would never forgive him for it. Ever.

He closed his eyes and groaned, glad that he had at least kick Paris out of his house the second she dropped him off. He could have made a million more mistakes last night if he hadn't. But still, he shouldn't have used the girl to make Marron jealous. He shouldn't have even expected her to become jealous. She had made it clear that she didn't really want more than friendship from him and he was an asshole not to learn to accept that.

Hurting her feeling was just the only way he had come up with, in his drunken state of mind, to compensate for his damaged pride.

This was the worst mistake he had ever made in his life. He had sent her away when she needed him. She had begged him not to and he had turned his back on her. The small part of him that thought she deserved what she got even felt horrible, knowing that she was really in need this time, for something, and he couldn't have been there for her.

But he was tired of being the go-to guy. Even as he thought it, a nagging in the back of his head and heart told him that this was more serious than that. There had been something _wrong_ and he knew it. He could sense it. And, last night, he had taken pride in knowing that she needed him and he wouldn't be there. Drunk or not, that was the worst thing he had ever done and there was no forgiving it. He would be paying long and hard for this one and he knew it.

#######

"Thank-you for staying with us last night." Pan whispered to Trunks as she turned around in the bed, her head finding his shoulder and taking rest there. He turned to face her as well, smiling down at her before shaking his head.

"It was no problem."

"No, I mean it," Pan insisted, curling her body up so that she was closer to him. "I don't know what I would have done without you last night."

"And _I_mean it, it was no problem." He wrapped her up in his arms, burying his head in the crook of her neck. "You smell like winter, do you know that? I didn't know winter even had a distinctive smell until you came back into my life." He murmured, kissing her neck in the pause after his sentence.

"I think you're ridiculous." She laughed, feeling flattered all the same.

"I'm not," he told her seriously, shifting their bodies again, this time so that she was on top, while running his hands down the small of her back. "Thank you for sleeping with me last night." He responded playfully, a crooked smile on his lips.

"Oh stop it," she wiggled up into a sitting position, straddling his hips with her legs as she looked down at him. "You know we only slept in the same bed. And _only_ because I didn't want to disturb Marron."

"You wanted me," he smirked, placing his hands suggestively on her hips. "You still do."

She rolled her eyes but didn't respond, smiling just the same.

"What do I have to do to get you out of this shirt?" He questioned after a second, giving her hips a slight squeeze. She was only wearing a long night-shirt as her pajamas, he was only in boxers and their position was quite suggestive.

"You're such a man," she teased him, leaning down to kiss his nose. He, of course, lifted his head and meshed his lips against her own. She shifted position but didn't pull away, holding herself up with her hands, which were placed on either side of his torso.

The kiss was slow and deep, leaving them both breathless when she pulled away. When she sat up again she accidentally–at least he hoped it was accidental–ground her hips against his, making him grit his teeth in slight frustration.

"What's wrong?" She asked playfully, being perfectly able to _feel_ what was wrong with him.

"What are you doing?" He asked after a few long seconds, finally regaining his regular breathing pattern. His voice was chastising yet his eyes were anything but.

"Getting up to cook breakfast. Is that okay with you?" She answered mischievously. Grinning, he released her hips and allowed her to slide off his body.

"I'm getting you back for that." He told her as she slipped out of the room, his eyes trained on her bare legs. Smirking, she turned back to him before shutting the door, and answered,

"I doubt it."

He smiled at the air where she had just been standing, feeling, for the first time, that he was finally at home. Wherever she was, he realized, was where he belonged. He just wanted to be near her for eternity.

_To be continued..._


	26. Loose Ends

Rainwater  
Chapter 25: Loose Ends  
Rating: R for sexual situations and suggestions, adult topics and language.  
_WitchyPrincess_

_Loose Ends_

_You know what it feels like when you first step into a pool? You put your toes in first, testing the water, tempting yourself, and immediately pulling back because the temperature is too cold. And then you contemplate not getting in at all, right? But only for a fleeting second because you know that once you submerge your entire body in water the sensation will become less shocking. _

_Eventually, you know, your body is going to adjust to the temperature. Your senses are going to adapt and the cold sensation is going to fade away._

_Only, what happens if you're _not_ too sure about that one fact? Do you risk it anyway?_

_–Pan Son  
_#######

By the time breakfast was ready, Marron was dressed and heading out of Pan's room. She walked into the kitchen, mouth falling open but no words coming out, as she watched the scene unravel before her.

Pan was standing over the stove in nothing but a long shirt and socks, flipping a pancake. Most of her body, however, was blocked from Marron's view by Trunks', who was standing behind her with his hands resting securely on her hips. Her head was tilted slightly to the side and he was whispering something that appeared to be rather naughty in her ear.

"And I thought _I _had an interesting night." Marron muttered to herself, straightening her shoulders and causing the couple to jump apart almost immediately. She could see Pan's cheeks color from where she was standing, even though she could only see one side of the girl's face. Marron quirked an eyebrow and held up a 'peace-offering' hand. "Hey, I just wanted to thank you both for putting up with me last night."

"Where are you going?" Pan asked after a second, flipping the pancake onto a plate and turning around. Marron could see the displeasure in her eyes clearly.

"Sorry to cut out on you so soon, but I have an...appointment...in an hour and I don't want to miss it. Besides, as much as I appreciate the thought, I couldn't eat that breakfast anyway." Making a face, she patted her stomach lightly and shook her head, glancing at Trunks to gauge his reaction to what she was saying. He pretended to be more interested in Pan's legs than Marron's statements, though, truly, it wasn't that hard to pretend.

"Okay..." Pan started hesitantly, looking from Marron to Trunks as if waiting for something more.

"But trust me," Marron spoke with a sly smile, looking between the glowing pair. "When I get a chance, we're going to talk. About everything." Her voice took on a more solemn note at the end, eyes glossing a bit as she thought over the previous night.

Pan, knowing when to hold her tongue, didn't ask the million questions flying through her head. Instead, she smiled politely and nodded, turning back to the skillet. "As long as you promise to make that soon."

It was as she was saying this that Trunks brushed a kiss across her cheek and headed towards the back, rustling Marron's hair along the way. "See you later, Marron," he offered on his way towards the bathroom.

Marron's eyes glittered, watching him walk away, before she responded with, "Trust me, I'll find the time." Then a devious, "Don't get into _too_ much trouble alone," before making her way out of the apartment. Pan blushed all over again. __

#######

"Thanks for breakfast," Trunks grinned, leaning over the table slightly with the smile still spread across his lips. There were a million questions spinning through his mind but he didn't have answers for any of them and he wasn't sure if now would be the right time to ask. In fact, he was almost confident that now was _not_ the time for his questions. He could tell by the hesitancy lingering around her eyes.

She didn't know what she was doing with him, clearly, and he was afraid that if he asked she would realize that and back away. He didn't want her to back away, he knew perfectly well what he was doing with her and he had patience enough to wait until she was ready before he did anything. He was tired of messing things up; he wasn't going to ruin this again. He wasn't sure he had ever been this happy in his life, just looking into her eyes made him feel this way, and he was too afraid to lose it.

He had known it for a while, but he hadn't wanted to admit it, now he could. He didn't exist without her and that was dangerous. She had more control over him than even he knew about.

"It wasn't for you." She responded back playfully, standing up as well. "Now go clean the kitchen while I get showered."

"I'll help you if you help me," he joked, picking up the plates and heading towards the sink.

"I don't need help." She called out as she walked into the living room. She passed his jacket on the couch and heard a video game tune coming from one of the pockets. Grinning and shaking her head, she reached over into the pocket and pulled out his cell phone. "Your phone's ringing, Trunks," she called out to him, already flipping it open.

"Could you get it for me?" He asked, coming out of the kitchen to see her already about to say hello. "Just take a message."

"Sure," she responded with a grin before clearing her face and speaking a professional, "Trunks Briefs' cell phone, how may I assist you?" Feeling a brief wave of amusement as he thought back on her days as his secretary, when she was much younger, he walked back into the kitchen to complete his task.

"Pan?" The male voice on the other end questioned instantly, his confusion clear. "Why are you answering this cell phone?"

Her breath caught in her throat as her hands began to shake nervously. "Brandon?" She asked hoarsely, shaking her head in the process. She didn't wait for him to confirm or deny, only slapped the phone shut, then flipped it back up and switched it off, before setting it back down on the couch.

After standing, dazed for a moment, she felt Trunks' soapy hands slide down her arms and rest around her waist. "Who was that?" He asked, nudging her neck with his head and making her smile slightly.

"Wrong number." She told him quickly, before realizing his hands were _wet_ and frowning. "Trunks, you're getting suds all over me."

"I told you I would help you with your shower." He returned mischievously, kissing her cheek before dropping his arms and moving back a little. "I finished with the kitchen," he told her and she knew instinctually that he had to have used super-human power in order to finish that quickly. "And I'm going to head home to get ready for work. Are you coming in today? We can have lunch."

Her heart was still hammering in her chest, after having heard her ex-boyfriend's voice on the other end of Trunks' phone. She bit her lip and shook her head. "No, there are things I need to do today, actually."

"What if the boss asks me why you didn't show up for work?" He asked her in serious tone, mocking concern.

"Why would he ask you?" She played along, looking at him curiously.

"He'll probably suspect that we slept together last night."

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. "I hope not, he'll be incredibly jealous if he thinks that."

"I know, he'll probably fire me. He can be very possessive sometimes."

"So, I guess you'll just have to tell him you don't know why I didn't show up for work. Otherwise, he'll rip your head off."

"Nah, I can just tell him that I heard it from my best friend, who just so happens to be your uncle, this morning."

"Oh, well then, tell him I might be sick or something, I'm sure you could make it up."

"Ah, but if I do that then he'll probably stop by to bring you soup and check up on you. You know, don't tell anyone, but I think he's in love with you."

"Yeah?" She asked, grinning by then. "I heard that same rumor a while ago." Then she reached up, while on tip-toes, and pulled his head down, kissing him daringly on the lips.

"What was that for?" He questioned when she pulled away, looking slightly dazed.

"For whatever lie you tell the boss to keep him busy until dinner time, when I'll meet him at the restaurant of his picking."

"You're going to date the boss?" He questioned incredulously, a slight smirk on his lips.

"That's for me to know and you to pretend like you haven't heard." She mock-glared, smacking his shoulder lightly. "Now get out of here before you're late for work and we really get in trouble with the boss."

"Yes ma'am." He nodded, walking over to the couch and grabbing his jacket and phone; he had gotten dressed earlier. "Hey babe," he called, on his way to the door.

"What Trunks?" She asked, pausing in the hallway to listen to him.

"Why did you turn my phone off?"

"Did I?" She asked, trying her best not to look guilty. "I didn't realize." They looked at each other for a moment, both slightly confused about the situation, before he smiled lazily and nodded his head.

"All right. Well, I'll see you tonight then."

"Okay," she told him, feeling both incredibly scared and incredibly content at the same time. She had to work on getting some serious closure today.

#######

She stepped into the house quietly, drawing her shoulders back as if preparing for battle. She had to do this now, she knew, or she would never be able to do it. She wouldn't be able to get anywhere if she kept this inside and forgot about it. Extenuating circumstances had kept the talking to a minimum until then, the gloating was pretty nonexistent, but she knew that she couldn't avoid it forever.

She found her father in his office, shuffling through a couple of papers that held little to no meaning to her, and drew in her breath before knocking softly on the side of the open door. He didn't acknowledge her for a moment, still scanning over the paper, then slowly rose his head to look into her eyes. His expression didn't change from the slightly interested look he'd had while staring down at the paper.

"You expected me," Pan stated blandly, stepping farther into the room.

"Earlier than this, in fact." He nodded, twisting his chair around to face the couch in his office while she took a seat at it. "We don't really need to do this."

She shook her head, holding up a hand. "I want to. Dad, I made a mistake and I think we should talk about it." She told him honestly, looking imploringly into his eyes.

"You learning from it is the important thing. There's no need for you to beat yourself up over something you can't change." He smiled encouragingly at her, the sympathy clear in his expression. "What I don't understand is why you did it? What could you have possibly been thinking to do something like that with _Trunks_ of all people." His voice was clipped at the end, making it clear that he was restraining himself from losing his temper.

Her brow wrinkled and she drew back in her chair as if he had thrown cold water in her face. She took a moment to reign in her feelings before she allowed herself to even think of responding, counting to ten and then reminding herself that he didn't know anything about what was happening with Trunks. Reminding herself that he was her father and he would always be protective of her, that was his job. She hadn't been able to accept that earlier.

"Dad," she started slowly, cautiously, after she had extinguished her rage completely. "I was apologizing because of what happened between _us_. I wasn't even here to talk about Trunks. I don't think that would be such a good idea right now."

He raised slightly shocked, slightly confused eyebrows at her. She continued without bothering to explain that statement further.

"I made a mistake when I asked you not to be a part of my life. I should never have said the things I said or acted the way I did. It's just..." She trailed off, her voice dying because of her lack of an explanation.

"You have a temper. You get it from your mother's side, I'm sure," he offered jokingly, voice still tight because of what he presumed to be an abrupt change in topic. "Pan, I forgave you for that a while ago. All _people_," he emphasized the word because he had been about to say 'children'. "Make mistakes. There's nothing wrong with it as long as you know when you're wrong.

"I'm not here to embarrass you. I never want to, you should know that. I only want what's best for you."

She sat back in her chair, smiling slightly and nodding her head while trying to gather her thoughts. "That doesn't mean, however," she continued after a second of comfortable pause. "That nothing I said was unfounded. It may have been said in anger, it may have been exaggerated and out of line, but that doesn't change the fact that some of it was justified.

"I am an adult now, whether you and mom like it or not, and I am entitled to make my own decisions. I'm allowed to make my own mistakes. I want you to trust me more, dad, and not assume that every mistake I make will turn out badly. I want you to trust me enough to let me live my life the way I want to live it.

"I'm not asking you to withhold your opinion, I don't want you to do that. All I'm asking is that you don't try to overpower my life with what you want for me. From now on, I would like to have freedom enough to not need your permission when I do something. I don't want to disappoint either of you again but I won't live my life in the shadows because I'm afraid of what you'll think either."

He heard all of this with a calm sort-of reserved look on his face, almost as if he had known it was coming. There seemed to be something on the tip of his tongue, something in his eyes that she knew he wanted to ask, but he pushed it back down and shook his head to stop himself from voicing it. A nagging in the back of her mind told her that she knew what it was he wanted to know. He wanted to know about her and Trunks. But he was taking her feelings into consideration, she had asked not to talk about him, and he was listening to what she had to say. Finally, she felt as if she were breaking through to him. For the first time in her life she felt like she was allowed to breathe.

"I understand. And I want you to know that it was never my intention to make you feel as if you were living in a prison. If that's what I've done to you, I'm sorry as well."

"I love you dad." Pan told him happily, flinging herself from the couch she was on and into his arms. They embraced for quite a while before she went to find her mother and tell her those same special three words. Along with two more: thank you.

Her mother had been the one to pull her out of her fog. She had also been the shoulder that Pan cried on, without judging and without saying I-told-you-so. Pan would never be able to tell her mother how grateful she was because of it. Videl, she felt, would never understand what it had meant to her.

After talking with her mother for a few minutes, just as she had with her father, Pan told them both she loved them and then realized that she had to go. She had a dinner date with her boss that she didn't want to miss.

#######

She had known he would come and she was right. He was sitting on her doorstep when she got home, his head hung down, black hair dripping about his shoulders in a lost, handsome fashion. She didn't want her heart to skip when she looked at him, she didn't want any emotion to be there at all. But there was and her hands went immediately to her stomach, without her thinking about it.

Then she remembered the way her heart skipped when he walked away from her. She remembered the lost, dejected, and utterly hopeless feeling that overpowered her, emptying her heart of everything but anger. She was angry. She was angry at him and at herself and, most importantly, she was angry at her situation. Because, no matter how much she wanted to hate him, to make him suffer, she couldn't make her heart slow down in his presence.

Pulling her jacket tighter, she walked around him and fumbled in her pocket for her keys. There was nothing she had to say to him, she thought stubbornly. Why should she have to talk to him now when he wouldn't listen to her before? After she had begged him? But his dark eyes rose up to meet hers before she could fully get herself into her house, and she couldn't control her feet anymore.

All the hurt, pain, and anger that she had been feeling this entire time was reflected in his eyes. Somehow, he had managed to make her feel apologetic to _him_ with just one look.

He seemed to take the pause as permission to talk and stood up hastily, a shimmer of hope glistening in his eyes. "Marron,"

But the hope brought her back to reality, like awakening from a dream and she turned back around, heading into her house. She slammed the door directly in his face. Then, after pacing in front of her entryway for a couple of minutes and biting her bottom lip, Marron sighed and dug through her purse. Pulling out the ultrasound, she opened the door, a wicked twist molding onto her lips.

Throwing the ultrasound down to the spot where Ubuu had taken a seat, she muttered, "There's the first picture of your child. I thought maybe you'd like to see it."

Without waiting for him to make a comment or even form a shocked expression, she drew her shoulders back and stepped back into her apartment. There was utter silence on her doorstep.

#######

Trunks smiled absently as he waited for Pan to pick up her phone. The week had gone by rather well, as far as he was concerned, and he had been smiling quite a bit. Love had the tendency to do that to a man, especially when it was returned. And now, he was more than excited because tonight was going to spectacular. Tonight was the night that everyone would know how utterly in love they were, finally, with one another.f That they had _finally_ gotten it right.

His face seemed to almost glow as he heard her voice on the other end of the line, greeting him in her own special way. "I was wondering if you had been thinking about me today."

"I'm always thinking about you," he told her honestly, leaning back in his office chair. "Are you busy?"

"Not anymore." He grinned.

"And why's that?"

"Friends just came on, I want to give it my undivided attention," she joked and he could hear her smile.

"Ah, of course." He tried to fight the smirk even though he knew she couldn't see it, but he failed.

"Wipe it off your face, Trunks," she warned and he marveled at how she could tell his expression without having to be there to see it.

"Yes dear," he rolled his eyes and drew in a deep breath. This was what he had been missing his entire life and he hadn't known it until this week. This blissful week.

He was careful, still, though because he didn't know what they were. He didn't know and honestly, he was afraid to ask her. Not wanting to push her, he had held his tongue on those issues until he could get some sign from her that she was ready to talk about it. But being patient was so very hard when he knew unquestioningly what it was that he wanted.

He wanted her to belong to him, in every sense of the word, and him to her. He wanted to tell the whole world that they were in love with each other and simply hold her in his arms for the rest of all time. Life, after all, was bland and uneventful when he wasn't in her presence. If he didn't have it bad, he didn't know who did.

His entire week had been a blur of meetings and business and Pan. He wasn't even sure if he had seen his family since the morning he woke up with Pan in his arms. Holding her for the very first time, throughout the entire night. He hadn't slept in her house, of course, since then, but that hadn't kept him from seeing her as often as possible. Without even considering that he might be smothering her. She seemed just a bright and happy as he was and there was no doubt in his mind that she loved him.

The question wasn't about how she felt. It was about what she planned to do about it. She had always loved him, he knew, and she had always been hurt by it. Now he understood that she wanted to take her time and make careful decision. She wanted to think about things throughly before she dove into something headfirst, because they both knew that she could not withstand being hurt that way anymore. What she had to figure out was that he would never hurt her like that again. He knew it now, undoubtably, for the first time.

She was like an extension of him. Part of him, body, mind, and soul. They had been _made_ for each other.

"Trunks?" Her voice drew him back to the present time and place, sending a group of butterflies flitting through his stomach. Randomly, when he was around her, he had that reaction.

"Sorry, love," he responded nearly immediately. "I just got lost in my thoughts."

"Good thoughts, I hope," she offered, more than asked.

"Of course, they were about you."

"Oh, well, good. I'd hate to have to murder one of the other three women who hold your heart.."

He raised an eyebrow after hearing this, unable to stop himself from asking. "And who, pray tell, would they be?"

"Don't pretend like you don't know, Trunks," she told him sternly and he could tell that she was fighting not to laugh.

"Humor me," he requested lightly, grinning.

"Two blue-haired women and a blonde. Stop trying to play innocent, mister."

He snorted before he could control it, rolling his eyes even though he was entertained. "If you're referring to my mother, sister, and Marron, then I have to inform you that you left two very important dark-haired women off that list. They will, after all, soon be mothers to me as well,"

He winced the second the sentence completed, almost of it's on volition, without his consent at all, and held his breath for a tensed second only. Then, clearing his throat and realizing that she wasn't going to say anything to correct or question or even comment on what he'd said, he jumped into the conversation again. "I mean, two women who are like mothers to me, having grown up with them and," sighing, he clamped his mouth shut, still nervously disturbed by her silence.

Her breathing had sped up slightly, but she made no attempt to say anything.

"Pan?" He asked finally, wanting desperately to make sure that he wasn't pushing her away from him. He hadn't meant to say that the way he'd said it. He hadn't meant...

It didn't matter, it was out there and she had heard it. Whether or not she wanted to acknowledge his insinuation was her decision.

She, apparently, did not want to because a second later she responded with a shaky, "Was there a specific reason you called me, Trunks, or did you just want to say hello?"

"I..." He frowned, more annoyed by the fact that she was going to ignore what just happened than he cared to admit. He was pacing himself, he had to remind his fluttering heart. He couldn't rush her into anything, she had a right to want to wait. To be unsure and careful. He simply had to respect that. But, gods, he didn't want to go through this. He only wanted to hold her, make love to her, and call her, legally and truthfully, his own. Forever.

"Yes," he finally agreed. "I called to remind you of the dinner at my parents' house tonight. And to ask if we were still going to attend together, or if you had come up with other plans."

She took too long to answer and he began to wonder if she was going to change her mind. His palm started to sweat as he held the phone closer to his ear. "Pan..."

"No, I hadn't forgot. I just, well, I was wondering if I could meet you there. I'm supposed to have lunch with a friend in less than twenty minutes, in fact, and I didn't want to rush it."

"Dinner's in an hour, Pan," he told her frowning, though he didn't know if it was because she was about to eat right before dinner or if it was because she no longer wanted to go with him. Or if it was because he couldn't decide whether or not she was telling him the truth.

"I know, I'm just going to eat a light lunch. Besides, you know we're going to hang around your mother's for an hour before we eat, and by that time I'll be starving again. I just...I have some...things...to take care of and I want to get them out of the way first."

"Pan," he started again, his tone just as dark as he clenched the phone. But she cut him off.

"Trunks, just," she heaved a deep sigh then and he could feel her switch the phone from one ear to the other. "Just trust me, okay? And don't," He could imagine, vividly, her eyes shutting and opening again dramatically. "I...I love you, okay? Be patient, please?"

"Always, sweetheart." He promised solemnly, looking up with agitation as the green light that signified someone was there to see him, blinked on the device sitting atop his desk. "I love you too. But I'll have to let you go now, there's someone here to see me, apparently. See you tonight."

"See you, Trunks."

He couldn't help but wonder what friend she was going to meet as he hung up the phone. Looking up with interest, he forced his brows not to wrinkle when he saw who was walking into his office to see him. He couldn't be here, today, right now. They were supposed to have dinner, but not _today_. He had to be at dinner tonight, with his family, and Pan, or his mother was going to go ballistic with anger. Not to mention, he wanted to be with Pan tonight. In front of everyone.

He couldn't, however, send the man home. He had been working on this business deal for quite some time and he didn't want to forfeit it simply because of bad timing.

"Dinner," the man started as he came deeper into the office, "Was scheduled for tomorrow night, but something has come up and I must leave town tomorrow morning instead of the day after. I apologize if this is a bother, but there was not much I could do about it." The man apologized smoothly.

Sighing, Trunks realized there was no way of getting out of this. He had only two options and he wasn't going to give up a night with Pan just because of business.

"How would you like a home cooked meal, Mr. Cofler?" Putting on his best smile, he offered the man a hopeful glance before standing up. "I know just the place. That is, if you don't mind a few family and friends."

"That," the man agreed. "Would be lovely."

#######

"Why won't you tell me," Goten begged, eyes widened to the maximum pleading expression.

"Because it's not my place to tell you. I can't believe you even know as much as you do." Bra countered, crossing her arms over her chest and ignoring his sad face. "My brother shouldn't have told you about it in the first place."

"If it's Pan, I think I have the right to know."

"Well, if it's Pan, don't you think she'll tell you herself? And then she'd be pissed because you already knew, and she'd know I told." Bra protested, looking smugly at his annoyed face.

"So you admit it," he grinned slowly, pointing an accusing finger at her as he shifted positions on the couch they were sitting on. "It _is_ Pan."

"Uh," Bra's mouth dropped open as she uncrossed her arms, giving him a disbelieving look in the process. "I never said that!"

"You didn't ever _not_ say it either." He stuck out his tongue.

She narrowed her eyes.

He scrunched up his nose.

She punched him in the arm. "Stop being so immature." She commanded, using her 'serious' voice. "I'm not going to tell you and there's no getting the information out of me."

"No?" He questioned obnoxiously, sounding more like he was challenging than asking.

"No." She confirmed strongly, mind fixed. "Because if I told you, I'd have to kill you."

"Well," Goten pretended to be put-out. "We'll just have to see about that." Then he pounced on her, pushing her back against the cushions of the couch, and giving her an evil look. "Are you going to tell me?" He asked sinisterly. She smiled and shook her head.

"Fine," he told her, placing his hands on her waist. "Then I'll just have to use force." His eyes glittered as he began to tickle her, smirking as she tried her hardest not to laugh at his actions. She failed horribly and they wound up on the floor, her under him, eyes watering from laughing so hard.

He stopped then, eyes sobering, laughter dying on his lips and he moved his hands slowly down her sides to rest on her hips. His touch, now, was less light and playful and more sensuous. Her eyes closed instantly, the smile also wiping of her face. Shifting his weight a bit, he fitted himself more appropriately over her before leaning his head down.

"You're beautiful," he whispered before devouring her neck in delicious kisses. She sucked in a breath and smiled, shifting demandingly under him.

"Goten," she managed, after a moment, trying hard to reign in her emotions. "We can't do this here. My parents will be back any moment. And guests should be arriving soon, you know that. We are on the living room floor." Her voice was coming out strained and paced oddly, because he hadn't stopped his assault of her skin and her body was screaming for him to continue. Her mind, however, knew this would get them nowhere.

He lifted his head and smirked at her, ignoring her comments and lowering his lips to just above hers. She turned her face so he kissed his way across her cheek until he made it towards her lips again. She moaned weakly but still refused to participate.

"Bra," he whined when she continued to resist him.

"Not here," she practically panted the words out because his hands were dancing under her shirt, teasing her waist with what they could be doing.

"Tell me and I'll stop," he told her, one last ditch attempt to get her to confess what she knew. At her stern face, he knew she wasn't going to agree and sighed, standing up and pulling her with him.

"You still love me," she told him playfully as he pouted in front of her, crossing his arms in annoyance.

"That's what you think." He challenged, glaring.

"Oh, you're such a baby." She teased pushing his side and laughing as he mocked her strength by melodramatically toppling over, screaming along with the show. They were so immersed in their antics, as she bent over him and cooed with false sympathy, that neither of them herd the door open and close.

"Kiss it and make it better?" Goten asked hopefully, wanting to lure her back onto the floor with him.

"Like I'm falling for that one again. Goten, give it up, I'm not going to tell you who's pregnant. Just forget that I know at all!"

"But I want to know!" He protested, pouting like petulant child.

"Then you'll just have to ask someone else who knows. I'm not telling."

"Who else knows, that might tell me?" He demanded, pushing himself up into a sitting position on the floor.

"I know," the voice behind him intoned, the pain so clear and distinguishable that no one in the room had to question _how_ it was that he knew. And, suddenly, Goten knew who too.

_To be continued..._

A/N: I know I picked the most inconvenient time in the story for my life to get hectic, but if you must blame it on someone then blame it on Fate. I had nothing to do with it, I swear. There was my impulsive decision (rightfully, I think) to do early admissions for my 1st choice college, my getting a car, thinking that we were moving and packing up my entire room and various other rooms in our house (we don't know, now, if we're moving or not), my getting a sinus infection that I thought was strep throat, missing school because of it and, consequently, make-up work. I had a Spanish project (a ten-minute video that I had to make a script for, all in Spanish, and then film/edit, which undoubtedly had technical problems) and my failing a driving test. Yes, nearly 18 and I still don't have a license. Sad, I know (but I don't like to drive in Ga traffic and I have friends that take me everywhere). I had to take SATs this morning, and prepare for the SATs before that. I have English books to read, college classes in high school really are a drag, and I'm eight points away from failing Calculus. So, you see, I _really have_ been very busy and I didn't bother to edit this chapter. I just want it off my hands.

Anyway, I'm guessing one to two more chapters (probably one) and then maybe an epilogue. But, pretty much, it's practically over folks. I'm probably going to take a long break from fan-fiction once I get _Never Say Never_ finished. That might, in fact, be my last real work for the T/P world. Sorry to say, but I never seem to have time these days.

Thank-you, however, for being so patient with me. Reviews would be nice, but, as always, it's your decision.


	27. Confessions

Rainwater  
Chapter 26: Confessions  
Rating: R for sexual situations and suggestions, adult topics and language.  
_WitchyPrincess_

_Confessions_

_Confession, they say, is good for the soul. Throw your hands up, tilt your head back, and shout all that you know to the world. For everyone to hear. For everyone to see and judge. _

_They can't say anything to you that you haven't already said of yourself. Every thought they have of you, you've already had. So, what's the point in keeping it all bottled up inside?_

_Why keep it secret, stored discreetly, as if you're ashamed of what you are? What you know and what you've done? I say, don't be afraid. Gather your courage and give it all you've got. Tell every soul in sight. _

_Because it's time. Now's the place. And I won't be scared anymore; it's my world for the taking._

_–Marron Chestnut

* * *

She was late. She was late and if she didn't make it to this lunch on time she was going to be even later for something else, and that was really what was bothering her. Well, that and the fact that, suddenly, she didn't even want to go. She didn't __want_ to sit in a room with her family and friends...and Trunks, whom she wasn't sure _what_ to classify as, and pretend not to be uncomfortable.

Her parents were going to be there, after all. Her father was going to be sitting in the same room as Trunks and herself, while everyone tried their hardest to get along. It had been, of course, Bulma's suggestion and Bulma's solution to everyone's problems. But Pan didn't think it would work out so well.

Still, it didn't matter what she thought. The only thing that mattered was that she showed up on time. And she wouldn't even be able to do that if she couldn't get out of her lunch on time, so she really was in a bit of a predicament.

To be honest, Pan didn't even know why she had set up this lunch in the first place. Except that she thought it might have had something to do with hearing Brandon's voice coming out of the other end of Trunks' cell phone. It made her think about everything she'd left behind when Trunks came back into her life, and she knew with certainty, after that, that she didn't want to be that girl. The one who gave up everything, forgot everything, and pushed everyone else aside simply because she had fallen in love. She had always despised women who stopped having lives because they had boyfriends...or significant others...or whatever the hell Trunks was to her...and she didn't want to be one of those girls now.

So she had done the logical thing and called up her former friend to reconcile what she had lost. Then, however, she hadn't expected to meet the girl after just talking to Trunks. She hadn't expected to be late because something Trunks had said had completely thrown her off balance and made her mood uneasy. Neither had she expected the flutter of jealousy that surged up her stomach and marched all the way to her throat the second she saw Sydney's face.

This girl had dated Trunks while they were...when they had been...

But Sydney had not known that, Pan firmly reminded herself as she placed a wide, forced, smile onto her lips. Sydney had not known and Pan could not blame her because of something that wasn't her fault. Besides, it had been established, though unofficially, that Trunks had not been dating Sydney, he had been working a business deal the easiest way he knew how.

That didn't stop Pan's eyes from narrowing slightly as she shook the brunette's hand and took a seat at the table.

"I thought it was about time you decided to talk to me again, Pan," Sydney smirked leaning back into her chair with a satisfied grin. "You could have just told me he was your boyfriend and none of this would have ever happened."

"He's not my boyfriend," Pan snapped, for a reason unknown to her.

Sydney smirked. "No? Well, perhaps not, but you're in love with him all the same."

"What's it matter to you?" Pan questioned defensively, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

"Nothing, really, I was just stating what I knew. There's no need to get your panties in a twist, sweetheart, I'm not going to fight you for him. He was a jackass anyway. The second he got the deal it was like: Sydney who?" She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture, an evilly playful glint lighting her eyes as she said the next part, "I'm betting he hasn't forgotten your name, though."

"What makes you say so?" Pan questioned, some of the bite leaving her stance and tone.

"You wouldn't be here otherwise, now would you? And, be honest Pan, you would have hated me for life if you had lost him over me."

Pan sighed deeply, the annoyance showing on her face. "I'm not as shallow as all that, Sid." Even as she said it, she could feel the cold, gripping fingers of anger and hate coil around her heart at the scenario. She would not only have hated Sydney, she would have _killed_ her. It was lucky for the girl that it hadn't happened that way.

"Whatever, Pan. Listen," Sydney smiled darkly, resting her arm on the table and leaning across it slightly. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. I knew that you were upset when you found out that I was seeing Trunks, but that didn't stop me and it should have. I should have at least asked you what was wrong. I mean, don't get me wrong, I knew what was bothering you. I'm not stupid. But I should have had the decency, as your friend, to step aside when I figured it out. And I didn't.

"I'm sorry. It was just that, to be honest, he was so damn handsome. And rich and famous. I felt like royalty when I was around him and I wasn't about to give it up because someone else was jealous of me. I didn't know you loved him then. I figured that out when you went months without speaking to me. That doesn't excuse my actions, I know, and I shouldn't try and justify them. But I just want you to fully understand it before you cast me aside again.

"You know him, Pan. You know he's impossible to say no to. Try and put yourself in my position for a second and tell me what you would have done."

Pan thought on it for a second, biting her lips because of the sense the girl was making and the war it was raging on her emotions, before looking into her silver eyes with a slight smile. "For Trunks?" Sydney nodded. "If the roles were switched, honestly, I'd be sitting across from you right now, making the same apology. And you're right, if he were more interested in you than he is in me, I probably wouldn't have called you up at all. I'm that stupidly in love with him.

"Now, if I don't leave soon I'm going to be late for dinner. With his family and mine, of course. And it'll cost me some blood if I'm late to dinner at his mother's house. So, honestly Sid, it was nice to get a chance to talk to you again and straighten this thing out, but I really don't want to be late."

They both stood, Sydney nodding as she rose. "Do you accept my apology then?" She questioned nervously, smiling hesitantly.

"Of course. If I didn't forgive you, I'd be a hypocrite. I'm a lot of things, Sid, but that's not one of them. ...I hope..." They laughed for a second before hugging briefly. As Pan began to walk away, Sydney called,

"I want one of the first invitations to the wedding." And jolted Pan's memory back to her and Trunks' earlier conversation. Pan forced a chuckle as she waved her friend off, trying to ignore the uneasy way her stomach rumbled.

"Fashionably late" was a term Pan was sure Bulma would not appreciate. Still, it couldn't be helped. She had needed to talk with Sydney, it was one of those things that was better done sooner than later. Besides, she felt loads better after having finally gotten a resolution to a pressing problem in her life. Now all she had to do was figure out what exactly she was doing with Trunks and all would be well.

Almost all, she thought sullenly, remembering the look that had contorted her father's face when he had said Trunks' name. She had a feeling that dinner was not going to go over well at all. But that was risk she would have to take and today was the day to do it. Trunks had seemed excited about this dinner, after all, and Pan knew it was mostly because she had agreed to accompany him...as his date.

Now, she had backed out of even that, so the last thing she wanted to do was make a spectacle of herself by showing up late. There was nothing that she could do about that now though, except push her shoulders back and smile when she entered the room. She had a feeling that life was about to get really interesting as she pushed the french doors that led to the sitting room, where she knew they would all be, open. And, taking a look inside, she realized that the feeling was not going to let her down. In any way, shape, or fashion.

Sucking in a breath, she silently willed her legs not to buckle underneath her. But..._what the hell was he doing here?

* * *

Trunks tried to force down the brilliant grin that spread across his face the second he saw Pan, but was unable to control the emotion. She had come. He was afraid she wouldn't come after their phone conversation. He had shaken her up and he knew that, but he couldn't take back what he said. Especially since he had meant every single word of it._

The smile dropped, however, as soon as he got a good look at her.

Her face was carefully expressionless but he could practically feel her heart pounding in her chest as she stared from him to Brandon Cofler with a slightly pale tint to her skin. Something was wrong but he didn't know what it was. There was a tensed moment of silence, one in which everyone looked from Pan to Trunks to Brandon in confusion, before Pan broke it with a smile.

"Hello everybody, I'm sorry I'm late." Pausing as her eyes made their way back to Brandon, she seemed to take a moment to think something over. When she had decided, she reinforced her smile and addressed the man Trunks hadn't even known that she knew by his name. "Brandon, it's good to see you again."

Her tone was cordial and detached, making Trunks sure that something was going on that he had no idea about. And clearly it was something bad, judging from the disgusted red-tint her father's face was taking on as he seemed to realize whatever it was that Trunks didn't know.

"That's no problem dear," his mother intervened smoothly from the couch she was sitting at, standing abruptly to sweep into damage control. "Why don't we eat, huh?"

It wasn't a suggestion that, in this atmosphere, any of them were going to ignore.

Dinner was strained, at best. Most everyone ate with their heads down, eyes staring intently at their food and nothing else. Goten cast furtive glances at Bra every now and then and she glanced back, both of them seeming to communicate something with their eyes. Neither one of them dared to look at either Marron or Ubuu for the obvious reasons. Marron herself avoided Ubuu's eyes as fervently as he avoided hers and _everyone _seemed to be trying hard not to stare at Trunks and Pan.

"So," Trunks finally started, trying to break the ice. "How do you and Brandon know each other, Pan?" He thought he was asking a casual, light question but was proved wrong when Videl dropped her fork and Goten cleared his throat loudly.

Pan shifted in her seat, dropping her own eyes for a second, before looking back up at Trunks–who was across the table from her–with forced calm. "I used to work for him," she answered as Brandon supplied,

"We used to work together."

Glancing at each other, she tried again. "He was my boss," while Brandon voiced,

"We were friends."

Pan shot a glare in his direction, he was next to Trunks, before turning back to Trunks' blue eyed stare. The expression on her face spoke wonders for his curiosity. She obviously did not want to talk about it. Not here or anywhere else for that matter.

It was then that Marron decided to switch the attention from Pan to herself. "I'm nearly three months pregnant." She announced calmly, still scooping mashed potatoes into her mouth as she said the words. Her mother stiffened at her side after hearing the news, her entire countenance becoming more guarded. Her father choked on his beef but forced himself not to say anything as he tried to remember how to breathe.

"I'm the father." Ubuu volunteered, following Marron's example and finishing off his rice. His shoulders tensed and it was clear that he was waiting for Krillin to explode, but the moment never came.

Juuhanchigou dropped her chopsticks and cast a dark look in Ubuu's direction before scooting her chair back and getting up from the table. Krillin chuckled nervously, looking from his wife to his child before shaking his head, avoiding Ubuu's gaze, and following after the irate blonde.

"Well," Bulma started, sweat-dropping and wanting desperately to save her dinner from being ruined. Bra chose that moment to interrupt, clearing her throat and casting a bright smile on her face.

"Goten and I are dating." She informed chirpily, throwing a wink in Goten's direction. He was sitting next to Vegita and nearly lost his entire dinner on the table when she made the announcement.

Vegita shifted in his chair menacingly, drawing back his shoulders to showcase his importance and cast a murderous stare at Goten.

"Uh..." Goten chimed in. "We...uh..."

Vegita growled.

Goten's face reddened and his speech stopped entirely.

"We plan on getting married at the beginning of next year, for fair warning." Bra continued, still smiling with oblivious joy.

"That's wonderful honey," Bulma intoned, afraid of the turn her dinner party was taking. "That means we've got a wedding to plan. I'm so glad." By then, at the self reminder of a wedding, she was nearly glowing with excitement and had already forgotten Marron's earlier announcement and the uproar it had caused.

Pan was almost swallowing her food whole, she was eating it so fast. Trunks hadn't taken his eyes off her throughout the entire ordeal and she could practically _hear_ him telling her that she should declare that they were together.

But were they together? And, even if they were, did she want everyone at this table to know? Did she want her _father_ to know? Bra and Marron had surprised everyone enough for all of them; Pan had not even known that Goten was with Bra until just now, and there was no need to do any more shocking tonight.

Trunks obviously did not agree because even as she had the thought, she heard him clear his throat very obviously and loudly. Everyone's attention had shifted to them and Marron's eyes rose curiously.

"Don't you think you should go talk to your mother?" Pan questioned instead, looking right back into Marron's blue eyes.

"No." The girl state succinctly, shaking her head. "She needs a day to calm down first. I'll talk to her tomorrow."

"_We_ will talk to her tomorrow." Ubuu interjected with a firm correction, eyes hard as he silently relayed that this wasn't to be negotiated.

"Then don't you think that the two of you should talk tonight?" Pan prodded, wanting desperately for Trunks to stop staring at her beneath his lashes. Marron didn't respond and Ubuu didn't know what to say so the table went back to dinner-plate scrapping silence.

"So, how have things been, Pan?" Brandon asked awkwardly, after a few minutes, not knowing what else to do.

She sucked on her teeth, slanting her eyes at him before looking back to her plate, but did not respond for the span of ten heartbeats. Finally, "Fine," in a clipped, icy tone. "And how's Mai?"

She spat the name with distaste, brown eyes shining in hatred.

"Isn't that your wife?" Trunks chose to enter the conversation as well, remembering that this was a client he was supposed to be winning over and realizing that Pan was not going to acknowledge him.

"Uh..." Brandon rambled off, looking guiltily from Trunks to Pan and back again.

"She's about to have a baby, isn't she? Boy or girl?" Trunks continued on, not noticing or not caring about the stiffness that his line of questions caused.

"A boy," Brandon offered reluctantly. "She's eight months along."

"That's wonderful. You must be excited. I know I can't wait to have children of my own," He cast another sidelong glance at Pan with that sentence and forced himself not to smirk when she shifted uncomfortably again.

If she wasn't going to tell everyone, he was at least going to make her as uncomfortable as possible.

"I only want one child, two at the most," Bra delivered, looking at Goten for his opinion. "I couldn't see myself chasing after a house full of Sa-" her sentence died for a second, realizing that she had a houseguest, before she picked back up with, "Satan's advocates. You know how hyper toddlers can be," with a nervous laugh.

Pan's stomach twisted bitterly at the words, her eyes drifting from Bra to Goten, then Ubuu and Marron's barely-showing belly, before going over to Trunks. Her heart skipped and, before she could stop herself, she had pushed her chair back and was getting up from the table.

"Excuse me," she mumbled softly, her voice nearly cracking as she turned around.

"Pan," Brandon called before Trunks could get any words out. "Could I have a word?" He looked incredibly guilty but Pan didn't know that, she only nodded and continued walking out of the room, not bothering to look back at his face.

She was fighting back tears.

Stepping calmly into the entrance room, Pan slide the door shut and took a seat in the plush chair, resting her head against the back with tired grace. "What is it?"

"If I had known you were going to be here, I wouldn't have come," he filled in softly, looking down at her with sincerity in his green eyes–eyes that were so dull now they almost looked gray.

"Yeah well," she started bitterly, but he cut her off.

"Let me finish, please?" He asked, drawing back his shoulders in a soldier's stance. "If I had known I wouldn't have come but I'm glad I didn't know.

"I just want you to know that what happened between us had nothing to do with you. God, if I could take it back I would. I was an idiot. I was a blind idiot who didn't see what he had until it was already too late. And now I know that it's too late to make things right again but if you would just consider forgiving me I,"

"Brandon, you're married for heaven's sake." Pan nearly roared, sitting up in her chair. "You aren't seriously suggesting what I think you are?"

"I didn't think you would." He told her defensively. "I was only seeing where I stood in the scheme of things. Pan, I've always loved you, you know that. Losing you was the biggest mistake of my life."

"You didn't love me, Brandon. You don't know what love is." She told him with a hard edge to her tone, standing up to signify that she had nothing else to say to him.

"You should leave." She announced, pointing to the door.

"But Trunks–"

"Probably heard everything you just said to me and won't hesitate to snap your neck in half if he sees your face." Her eyes told him what her words didn't because she felt that all the Saiyan men were listening, not just Trunks, and she didn't want her father to hear of anything going on between her and Trunks.

The second Brandon was out of the door, Trunks was at her side. He didn't say anything, but she could feel the tension in him as easy as if it were her own. He took her elbow in his hand and led her to the door without a word, holding it open for her and following her out.

"Do you think they can hear us from here?" He whispered after walked around to the side of the house that was farthest away from where everyone was sitting. She shook her head no and looked up into his stormy blue eyes, hesitant to know what he was thinking.

"Good." He crossed his arms and made a show of towering over her. "Who the hell was that?" His voice was menacing enough for her to force down the laugh that wanted to erupt at his ridiculous question.

She couldn't stop the glib comment, however. "What do you mean, who was that? You invited him for dinner."

"Don't toy with me, Pan, you know what I'm asking."

"What do they think you're doing right now?" She asked cautiously.

"Giving my client a hospitable goodbye." He told her shortly. "Bra kept them amused enough to not eavesdrop in your conversation."

"She just left you alone, is that it?"

"Stop changing the subject." He commanded, annoyed.

"I'm not. I'm just trying to make sure the bases are covered."

"_Why_ do we have to even 'cover bases'? Why haven't we just told them?"

"I," She stopped, unable to provide an answer, and crossed her own arms. "Now who's changing the subject?"

"Only because I'm still waiting for an answer to my first question."

"You already have an answer to your first question. That was Brandon Cofler. My old boss and ex-boyfriend. He cheated with Mai, another one of his employees, and, according to you they are married and expecting a child in a month. Though, it appears they are not very happy together. At least, Brandon can't be happy. But then, he's always been a jerk."

"Then why on earth did you date him?" Trunks roared, looking angrier by the second.

"I don't know, why was I with you? You were no better in the beginning."

"Did you love him, Pan?" His voice was light, a near whisper, as he asked. She could both see and hear the distress in it.

"I thought so at the time, Trunks. But I was wrong, okay? You're the only person I've ever loved and you damn well know it."

His hands somehow found their way to her waist, his lips pressing the juncture between her jaw bone and her ear. Her body molded with his, her own arms wrapping around his neck. He kissed his way down her neck before backing her towards the wall and letting his hands slide up her silk shirt and run sensuous circles across her midriff.

She moaned lightly, throwing her head back and letting it bang lightly against the brick of the wall before she dove her fingers into his hair. He pushed against her, rubbing his body against hers, before brining his lips up to meet hers.

The kiss was slow, promising, as he explored her mouth with his tongue, memorizing the warm recesses of her. He broke it slowly, pulling his head back and resting his forehead against her own to catch his breath.

"I'm sorry." He said after a second of pause. "I just..."

She dipped her body so that her pelvis brushed against his and caused his thoughts to halt abruptly where they were. Her lips swept across his temple and trailed down his face before suffocating his lips. She pulled him closer as they kissed, her body telling his that she had not minded at all.

"Pan," he pleaded in between kisses. "Really, we should," her leg curved around his and forced a closer intimacy, making him groan instead of finish his statement.

His fingers were unbuttoning her blouse as if they controlled themselves, and he marveled at both himself and her when he caught sight of her bra-clad chest. He scooped his head down anyway, though, and kissed her collarbone gently. His tongue swept across the top of her chest before he scattered kisses along the line of the fabric.

She was wearing a black, lace bra, much to his pleasure. Instead of pushing the material off of her skin as well, he placed his lips over the fabric that covered her nipple and nipped it lightly, eliciting a seductive cry of pleasure from her as he preceded to suck the area. She threw her body into him full-force, gripping his hair instead of running her fingers through it.

After a moment of unhinged passion, he drew back from her, catching his breath again.

"We should talk." He managed as she struggled to catch her own breath.

"I don't want to–"

"Why did you get so upset in there? Was it because of Brandon and his wife? Or was it something else?" He left the implication hanging in the air as his fingers worked on re-buttoning her shirt for her.

"You shouldn't ask questions when you already know the answer, Trunks."

"You can't be mad at the world, Pan," he started, kissing her collarbone again before he re-did the last few buttons. "Simply because of circumstance."

"I'm not mad at the whole world." She countered defensively.

"Oh no?" He asked teasingly. "Just Marron because she is pregnant and Bra because she doesn't want to be pregnant. And probably Mai too, whom you don't even know. It won't stop after that."

"You shouldn't want to marry me, Trunks." She told him finally, pushing his body away from hers and wrapping her arms around herself defensively.

"I love you, Pan."

"But you want children, not just one child or two, and I can't give you that."

"Pan," he forced himself not to roll his eyes. "I only want children with you. Whether that's one or seven, I don't care, as long as their _ours_. I don't want anyone but you."

"You only say that now because you can't think about the future, I ,"

"I don't want a future without you in it. If you don't feel the same, baby, there's nothing much I can do about that. But don't try and make it seem like you're not good enough for me. I only want you and I'm not letting you go that easily, either."

"Trunks it's not fair for me to,"

"I'm not letting you go." He told her firmly. "I did that once and it nearly killed me. Whether you want me or not, I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. You might as well get used to it."

"I don't want you to go anywhere." She told him, sure for the first time all night.

"Good, because I want to get married sometime before January." His eyes were glittering. "After all, if we're going to keep up with them, children-wise, we're going to need a couple of months head start."

He tensed in anticipation of what she would say, not knowing what he would do if she went all scared again. She paused but she didn't turn away from him. That was a good sign at least.

"I don't know what to say," she told him honestly, after a few beats.

He grinned. "Say you'll marry me."

"I guess I could do that."

He stole her lips again and didn't let them go until both of them were nearly choking for need of oxygen.

_Fin._

A/N: There's an epilogue on it's way. Thank you for sticking with me through this!

(As I stated in an author's note on my info page, I don't have the internet right now--this is an aol free trail thingy, I was so desperate to be back online--so I couldn't update the with the last chapter before this. The story's been complete for a while though. I'm sorry you had to wait so long. The only reason why I'm even updating it now, on dial-up, is because I had to check my college admissions status. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been so desperate to be online even.) I'll be back when I can to update with the epilogue. Thanks again for reviewing and reading this! I love you guys so much!!


	28. Something Amazing

Rainwater  
Epilogue: Something Amazing  
Rating: R for sexual situations and suggestions, adult topics and language.  
_WitchyPrincess_

_Something Amazing_

_Like having an unfinished puzzle, I feel as if I'm missing something. With the last piece absent from the box, I know there is no way to rectify the situation. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars; my life is like a constant road of stop-signs and red lights. And maybe it doesn't help that I'm sitting here, my elbows pressed to the window sill, my fears pestering my heart to throbbing intensity, without trying to do anything about it. _

_I'm the novel whose ending you haven't read. Whether it's because you were too lazy to pick the book back up again, you simply lost interest, or the ending is, as of yet, unwritten, makes no difference. The point remains the same: I'm unfinished. _

_I think it's time I got completed._

_–Marron Chestnut  
_#######

_They say there's a rainbow at the end of every rain-cloud. I wonder, you know, if that's true. I pray, of course, that it is. And now I believe that it could be._

_I'm still testing the theory and I'll be sure to let you know what I conclude. But I'm not walking into this holding my breath. This time I'm diving, head first, and not looking back. I'm tired of wondering 'what if' and living my life with unanswered questions. I'm so tired of waiting, praying, believing, but never knowing._

_I want to know. To feel. To taste and see and touch. I want to hold It in my hands- that dream they all say doesn't exist- that happily ever after that all the little girls daydream about. I want to hold It, I want to be It. _

_If I close my eyes and concentrate hard enough, I can almost feel that glass slipper sliding on my foot, and I know–without being told–that it fits. _

_–Bra Briefs  
_#######

_It feels wonderful–this jaw-slacking, ear-pounding, heart-splitting joy that ruptures through me at every moment. And I'm not wary of it or confused. I'm not pushing it back or fighting it off. I'm drowning in it. I'm completely losing myself to it and that–for the first time in my life–is okay with me. _

_It's amazing. And, I mean the good kind of amazing. Astonishing and spectacular, surprising and joyful, ground breaking and, yes, even heartbreaking. The kind of happy that crushes you until you suffocate, that rips your heart open and leaves you to bleed it well, until the thrill has worn off a bit. _

_And that doesn't scare me anymore. Because, even if I bleed dry I know, in the end, it will have been worth it. If I die, I'll die smiling. _

_It feels wonderful because for the first time I don't want to complain about anything; I'm happy, and I'm happy about that. _

_–Pan Son  
_#######

The three of them sat at the table, faces serenely happy, eyes taking in each other's countenances with a scrutiny acquired only from knowing the other extremely thoroughly. One was weary but better for the wear. One was glowing, though slightly annoyed. And the other was pure bliss wrapped in a cloud of disappointment.

"Morning sickness?" The blissful one questioned the glowing. The glowing nodded in response and shifted in her seat, hand coming up to gently stroke her own upset stomach.

"And not just in the morning." Glowing complained while Weary laughed at her announcement.

"You don't say." Weary remarked in phony astonishment.

"Oh, don't attract attention towards yourself," Glowing warned Weary, a glitter now lighting her eyes with mischief.

"And why not?" Weary defended. "I have nothing to hide."

"Sure you don't," Blissful 'agreed' with pretend acquiesce. Her doubt was clear in her voice.

"Okay, whatever." Weary gave up, throwing her hands into her hair as admittance that she was actually bothered by something and did not, in fact, want attention drawn to herself.

"Why don't you just go ahead and tell the boy you'll marry him? It's been two years." Glowing reminded her gently, the concern lighting her tone.

"Because she's stubborn." Blissful supplied, glaring at Weary. "He's proposed fifteen times last year, that's more than once a month, I think that's getting a little ridiculous." Her eyes didn't leave Weary's as she told her this, narrowing at the end.

"He's served his penance. Forgive him already." Glowing pleaded.

"I _have_ forgiven him. I'm just not sure I can marry him."

"Oh, you're sure." Both Glowing and Blissful challenged.

"He's the best man you've ever known," Blissful continued. "He's a wonderful father and he's a part of your family already. What more could a girl ask for?" There was a wistful note to Blissful's voice as she finished, her eyes had gone glassy as well. "You don't know how lucky you are."

"Not _that_ lucky," Glowing challenged, because she couldn't control some of the things she said these days. Those damn hormones had it in for her, she chanted silently as she cupped her mouth with her hand and widened her eyes. "I can't believe I just said that."

"It's the hormones." Weary informed with a lax shrug.

"It's no excuse." Blissful snapped.

There was silence for a few beats before Weary filled in the silence with, "You're going to experience it one day and then you won't be so sure about that." There was a promise in her voice that neither of the other two women missed.

"Maybe." Blissful relented.

"Positively." Glowing chimed in, nodding her head. "And you'll feel the same way, too."

"Probably."

"Absolutely." Both Glowing and Weary called out.

Blissful looked down at her watch and her eyes lit up, her entire body relaxing before her two friend's eyes.

"Uh-oh. It's time for someone to go home." Weary teased.

"_My husband_," Blissful intoned, smirking, "Will be there soon and we have to work on provoking those hormones of mine to go crazy, if you don't mind." It was clearly not a question, and she obviously didn't care who did or did not mind.

"Actually," Glowing frowned. "I could have gone without hearing that."

"Like you haven't heard it before." Blissful scoffed.

"That doesn't mean I should hear it _again_. I'm related to him for heaven's sake."

Blissful blew both women air kisses and found her way out of Glowing's house, calling out a good-bye as she went. "Tell him you'll marry him, stupid!" She was laughing when she shut the door.

Weary rolled her eyes and Glowing broke into giggles. "Pushy to the end." Glowing joked.

"Happy as hell, though." Weary countered, a slight envy to her eyes.

"We all are," Glowing promptly reminded her. "You're just too stubborn to admit it. _Why_ won't you marry him?"

"I told him I'd think about it this time," Weary defended.

"And?" Glowing prompted.

"I'm thinking I'll say yes."

"Finally!" Glowing was overjoyed. "Who the hell talked you into it? Me or the She-Devil that just left? We've got a running bet going."

"Well then I'm sorry to disappoint you but it was actually Haven that talked me into it."

"_The baby_?"

"Yeah, well, she won't stop calling him daddy." Glowing rolled her eyes while Weary laughed herself into tears. "I love that girl. And you'll love your child just as much, I promise."

"I know," Glowing grinned, patting her stomach. "I just didn't expect it to happen so soon. Life isn't fair, you know. It should have been her." Glowing admitted, looking at the seat that Blissful had just vacated.

"She'll get hers too. It, apparently, wasn't her time yet. But it will be and when it is, that will make it all worth while."

"When did you get so smart?"

"How old is Haven?" Weary joked.

"Just older than eighteen months," Glowing provided, slightly confused.

"Oh, well then, just about eighteen months ago."

"Heaven help us, I'm going to sound like you in a year." They both smiled thoughtfully, imagining their future.

They sat in comfortable silence, watching the sun, through the window, go down over the hills. And both girls knew one thing: this was what life was. This was what it really _was_.

A/N: Well, the only thing left is for me to edit and revise. I'll finish _Never Say Never_, of course, and then I might just be done completely. Thank all of you for staying around to find out the ending and thank you the most for every single review you've submitted. They really do mean a lot to me, I don't know how I would have gotten through this thing without the encouragement. Oh, and by the way, I did get accepted into my first choice college (which isn't an ivy league or anything, but I don't want to pay that much money for my undergraduate years anyway, so I'll worry about those four years from now).

Thanks to those who were cheering for me and to every single person that reviewed this story!


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